At the end of October, Helena Batt, deputy director of TED Translators, traveled to São Paulo, Brazil, to meet with local translators and TEDx organizers ahead of this year’s TEDxSãoPaulo gathering. The goal was to connect these folks in order to further bolster the thriving Brazilian TED Translators community.
The evening before TEDxSãoPaulo, Helena and a dozen or so translators and organizers convened at Seen restaurant, where they discussed the extremely productive network these two cohorts have built together. As Helena puts it: “The Brazilian TED Translators community—with its consistent collaboration between translators, as well as between translators and TEDx organizers—is a model of success for other translation communities. Vital to this success is the excellent training and mentoring that Brazilian Language Coordinators provide new translators, in addition to their efforts to include TED Translators in local TEDx events.”
TEDxSãoPaulo went down the next day, October 24, and saw TED Translators from numerous parts of Brazil come together to participate in activities and conversations co-organized by the Skoll Foundation. “It was refreshing and inspiring, especially in a country currently quite divided by politics, to witness and be a part of such a warm and synergetic community in action,” Helena says. “TED Translators looks forward to continuing to help develop the Brazilian translation community and to identifying its best practices to apply to other translation communities around the world.”
Poetry and animation may seem an unlikely combination upon first consideration: After all, how does one translate a poem—its language, action, imagery, idiom, emotion, syntax, rhythm—into visuals that are commensurate to what the poem is saying and doing on the page? Well, our friends at TED-Ed have accomplished just that with their new animated poetry series called “There’s a poem for that”.
The series recently launched with the poem “To Make Use of Water” by Sudanese-American poet Safia Elhillo. It’s a devastating but starkly beautiful lyric elegy spurred by the speaker’s reflections on dislocation, identity, estrangement, distance, home. While she struggles with both the privilege and guilt of leaving behind her family and culture to pursue a life in America (“/stupid girl, atlantic got your tongue/”, the speaker chides herself in the poem’s first section as she recalls Arabic and English words she’s forgotten), she also contemplates and interrogates her new world and the inclusion and exclusion she’s found there.
In TED-Ed’s short video, Elhillo reads “To Make Use of Water” (with accompanying subtitles) while animation with the texture of water, or perhaps watery memory, mirrors the poem’s movements. The images hover, swirl, dissolve (which is the title of one of the poem’s sections) into each other as they give shape to the speaker’s argument with herself. To be sure, “To Make Use of Water” stands on its own as piercing piece of art; but its coupling with animation heightens the poem’s drama of longing, of seeking impossible closure, of trying to reconcile two different selves that are nonetheless inextricably intertwined. The result is an arresting literary-visual work that demands to be watched and heard—and will certainly be relished—by anyone in search of a transformational artistic engagement. Go check it out here.
P.S. After Elhillo’s animated poem, stay tuned for an insightful interview with the poet.
A few days after the Paris gathering, Jenny and Helena met with TED Translators in Barcelona, one of Europe’s many hubs for international students and professionals. The Green Spot restaurant was the venue, and nine translators with quite varied backgrounds and representing an array of languages convened there to brainstorm more effective ways of connecting local translators and identifying potential new Language Coordinators and mentors. In addition, as in Paris, Jenny, Helena and the group analyzed onboarding research and some of the latest TED Translators projects. A thoroughly productive engagement, this gathering underscored that not only is Barcelona’s translation community thriving, it’s also growing its ranks at a steady pace.
Late last month, Jenny Zurawell, the director of TED Translators, and deputy director Helena Batt traveled to Paris for a team-building rendezvous with local TED Translators. Jenny, Helena and half a dozen translators gathered at the renowned Chez Prune restaurant, where they celebrated the local translation community and discussed how to better connect local translators, onboarding best practices for new translators, and recent projects to help develop the TED Translators program.
Of all the positive takeaways from the gathering, perhaps the most significant was that several of the translators had met previously, at TED@BCG 2016 in Paris, and they remain in touch today, organizing smaller meetups and events in the city (such as this translate-a-thon, which was put on by TEDxVaugirardRoad organizer Stéphane Roger). Suffice it to say that the TED Translators community in Paris is alive and well—and only continuing to grow.
Maurício Kakuei Tanaka was born and currently resides in São Paulo, Brazil. He studied English and computer science at university, and he’s now on his way to completing coursework in translation and interpretation. Since joining the TED Translators program in 2017, Maurício has fast become one of the most prolific translators in the Brazilian Portuguese translation community. As we learned in our conversation with him below, his remarkable output derives from his love of languages, learning, and sharing ideas. Read on to get to know Maurício and the flourishing translation community that inspires him and in which he himself is an inspiration.
How did you initially get involved with TED Translators? What drew you to the program?
It all started for me with this talk at TEDxSãoPaulo 2009, in which Bruno Buccalon recounts his discovery of TED and joining the TED Translators program. In March of last year, I watched the video of his talk in one of my classes in the Translation and Interpretation course (English <> Portuguese) at Associação Alumni. That evening, after class, I burned the midnight oil watching TED Talks and researching TED Translators.
I joined the program in April of 2017. Soon afterward, I received an email from TED Translators welcoming me to the team, as well as a delightful email from Maricene Crus, one of the program’s Brazilian Portuguese Language Coordinators (her note opened with this greeting: “Welcome, Maurício! This is not an automatic message sent by a robot. :)”). Maricene’s email further piqued my desire to work with TED Translators, as it reassured me that actual people participate in and curate the program.
My first two translations were published just two days after I joined TED Translators. Today, over a year later, I continue translating TED and TEDx Talks, and I’m more psyched than ever to contribute to such an amazing program!
What was the first talk you translated? Why did you choose this one as your first?
I chose this talk because I was advised to translate a short one to kick off my work with TED Translators. In addition, the interesting content, particularly the poem, drew me in. Although Daniel’s talk is brief, I found it challenging to translate: Not only was this my first time creating subtitles for a video of any kind, but I also had to make several key word choices for the poem in order for it to cohere in Brazilian Portuguese.
What kind(s) of TED Talks do you gravitate toward when picking one to translate?
I generally gravitate toward talks that deal in humanity, personal growth and life experiences. It’s important, too, that I feel a connection with the speaker, since my job is to tell her story in my language.
On a related note, TED Talks are quite sought-after in Brazil, so sometimes it’s difficult for Brazilian Portuguese TED Translators to find a talk to translate. For example, if you were to check the tasks listed in Amara at the time of my writing this, you’d see that no TED Talks await translation into Brazilian Portuguese; they’re all taken!
Can you describe your translation process?
I first watch the entire talk I’m translating with English subtitles. Next, I open the subtitle editor, online English-to-Portuguese and English dictionaries, and online thesauruses in the same languages. I then translate each English subtitle directly into Amara’s editing feature. Depending on my schedule, it may take me a few days to finish translating a talk. So, my process tends to be rather meticulous.
I should add that I also research the talk’s subject and speaker; the facts, places and links that are mentioned; and specific terms—especially in fields like medicine, technology and sports. (I once spent hours translating a short TED-Ed Talk because I had to research certain terms that were unfamiliar to me.)
After I finish a translation I check it for grammar, and make sure it adheres to TED’s style guide and reads naturally in Brazilian Portuguese. Then come some technical steps, like correcting the number of characters in each subtitle and adjusting the subtitles’ reading speeds. Due to the many differences in syntax, cadence and other linguistic variables between English and Brazilian Portuguese, a small subtitle in the former language may translate as a larger subtitle in the latter; this is why I often split and merge subtitles. Finally, I adjust the subtitles’ sync to ensure that each one appears and transitions to the next at the proper time.
When I’m satisfied that a translation is fully complete, I watch the talk again in Amara with simultaneous English and Brazilian Portuguese subtitles. Sometimes I find errors I missed earlier and fix them; but if everything looks good, I submit my translation for review.
It’s evident that language and working with it are passions of yours. How do you engage with language outside of translating? Do you write? Are you an avid reader? Both?
As I mentioned earlier, I currently attend the Translation and Interpretation course (English <> Portuguese) at Associação Alumni, which demands a lot of studying, writing and reading. That’s where most of my time and energy go when I’m not translating. I also watch TV shows, movies and news in English, and participate in translation and interpretation workshops and gatherings; it’s important to me to hone my English-language skills through as many avenues as possible.
This November, I’m going to discuss my work and inspiration as a TED Translator at PROFT, a symposium of translators in São Paulo. I plan to write about the experience, and I hope to publish the piece when it’s done.
Are you currently translating any TED Talks? If so, which ones?
What has been your favorite talk to translate thus far?
Well, I discovered a lost treasure of sorts that’s reigning as my favorite at present: “Programming for unlimited learning”. This talk was delivered at TEDxYouth@Valladolid by 8-year-old Antonio García Vicente, who lives in Valladolid, Spain. Antonio lays out his vision for sharing resources so that everybody has an opportunity to learn and create. He’s a wonderfully bright kid, and he’s inspired me quite a bit for my aforementioned PROFT talk in November.
On a related note, shout out to Brazilian Portuguese Language Coordinator Leonardo Silva for reviewing and approving my translation of Antonio’s talk. Both he and Maricene (whom I mentioned earlier) have reviewed and approved most of my work, and their guidance has been indispensable.
What’s in store for you as a TED Translator in the near future?
I intend to transcribe more English-language talks, as I’ve been doing. Not only is this a great way to improve my English skills, but it also affords me the chance to have my work reviewed by TED Translators of different nationalities. Perhaps, though, the most interesting aspect of transcribing English talks, to me, is that I’m a starting point, if you will, for translations of the same talks in the over 100 languages TED Translators work in.
I also plan to keep searching for those “lost-treasure” talks—fantastic talks like Antonio García Vicente’s that have yet to be translated. After I “rescue” such talks with my translations, it’s so satisfying to see their viewership skyrocket.
Is there anything you’d like to add in closing?
The TED Translators program has undoubtedly changed my life for the better. I’m immensely grateful to TED for accepting me as a translator and for enabling me to spread amazing ideas in Brazilian Portuguese. I’m honored and proud to be a TED Translator!
In addition, I want to extend a big thank-you to the Brazilian Portuguese Language Coordinators who have reviewed my translations and provided me with very detailed and useful feedback. I’ve learned so much from these generous folks, and their outstanding review and approval work makes them essential to the continued success of the Brazilian TED Translators community.
Good news, TED Translators: We’re now accepting applications for TED Translator passes to TEDSummit 2019! As you may already know, TEDSummit is an event that brings together TED’s various communities under a common theme. The theme for 2019? “A community beyond borders”. Attendees will include TED Translators like yourselves, TEDx organizers, TED Fellows, over 150 previous TED Speakers, and others. What’s more, TEDSummit 2019 is set to feature a fusion of workshops, community brainstorming sessions, discussions, performances, outdoor activities and an eclectic program of mainstage talks—all in beautiful Edinburgh, Scotland.
So, what does a TED Translator pass get you? It covers the conference fee, as well as travel and accommodation expenses. In order to be eligible for a pass, you must be a TED Translator with at least five published subtitles. TEDSummit 2019 will take place July 21-25, 2019, but all accepted translators are required to attend pre-conference activities that begin on July 19.
You can find the application here. Please note that the submission deadline is November 1, 2018. Late submissions will not be reviewed.
Dr. Essam Daod is a Palestinian psychiatrist, psychotherapist and medical doctor who currently resides in Haifa, Israel. This year, he became the first-ever Palestinian citizen of Israel inducted into the TED Fellows program. Also a longtime human rights activist, Essam and his wife, Maria Jammal, traveled to the Greek island of Lesvos in late 2015 to join other aid workers there in providing humanitarian relief to Syrian refugees arriving by sea after fleeing their country’s brutal civil war. What he and Maria encountered on this trip drastically changed the trajectory of their lives and work: death, suffering, despair, dehumanization—every terrible consequence that war—which is “the total failure of the human spirit,” as veteran Middle East and war correspondent Robert Fisk has put it—inevitably produces. (One of Essam’s first interactions with refugees on Lesvos found him trying in vain to resuscitate a woman who had drowned while trapped facedown in an overcrowded, flooded dinghy.)
Yet, amid rafts and ships frequently capsizing and corpses of all ages washing up on the beach, Essam relentlessly spent several weeks rescuing refugees at sea, administering medical aid on the shore and treating, when he could, the psychological traumas sustained by the newly arrived. Maria, meanwhile, tirelessly devoted herself to rehabilitating refugees in the island’s hospitals and camps.
Back in Haifa after their initial trip to Lesvos, Essam and Maria realized what was (and still is) severely lacking in humanitarian relief for refugees: comprehensive mental health treatment. The couple says that despite the fact that psychological trauma is inherent to becoming and living as a refugee, mental health treatment remains marginalized, even stigmatized, in humanitarian work in crisis zones. That crucial realization catalyzed Essam and Maria’s decision to start Humanity Crew, an international aid organization that, as its website states, “deploy[s] mental health and psychosocial support to displaced populations in order to improve their mental health and wellbeing, to restore order in their lives, and to prevent further psychological escalation.” For almost three years now, Humanity Crew—which consists of nearly a dozen trained professionals, including Essam and Maria, as well as hundreds of qualified volunteers—has been carrying out its mission on the various frontlines of the refugee plight in Europe, from rescue boats and shorelines to hospitals and camps. And the organization has achieved considerable results by any measure: According to its website, Humanity Crew has provided “over 26,000 hours of mental health support to an estimate of over 10,000 refugees.”
Earlier this year, at TED2018, Essam delivered a powerful, poignant, undeniably urgent talk— “How we can bring mental health support to refugees”—that not only highlights Humanity Crew and its work, but also gives us a sobering glimpse into the magnitude of the refugee crisis in Europe and how extremely vital mental health treatment is to mitigating the psychic toll this catastrophe takes on its victims. Certainly, Essam and Humanity Crew’s extraordinary efforts are reason enough for us to want to talk in depth with him about how he and his colleagues are tackling psychological trauma among refugees; but there’s also an element of translation intrinsic in their work that might not immediately reveal itself to us, but which we’d all be the better for discerning and understanding: the translation of trauma into empowerment. Essam was generous enough to discuss all of this and more with us over email. Check out our conversation below.
Before founding Humanity Crew, you and your wife, Maria, traveled to Lesvos, a Greek island in the Aegean Sea, in order to provide aid (medical aid, in your case) to Syrian refugees arriving there after desperate, treacherous journeys from Turkey. Although words cannot fully convey the horror you witnessed and tried to ameliorate on the island’s shore, can you recount—for those of us who haven’t experienced the refugee crisis first-hand—some of your initial encounters with refugees on Lesvos?
Many stories come to mind whenever I’m asked about that early trip to Lesvos, but this is the first time—and I don’t know why—that the question has elicited my memory of an exchange I witnessed between an elderly Syrian man who had just been rescued from a refugee boat and a young European man who was working at a clothes-distribution station on the shore. The Syrian man was about 70 years old, shivering and practically begging the European man, who was about 20, for a different dry jacket because the one he’d been given was a woman’s jacket—which humiliated the elderly man. The young man refused the request, saying, “This is no time for choosing what you like; just take the jacket and say ‘thank you.’” The Syrian man returned the dry jacket and took back the soaked one he’d traveled in. He put it on and told the young man in Arabic, “I may have lost my house, but I haven’t lost my dignity.”
I think this interaction sticks with me because it shows how both refugees and those who help them are traumatized by what they experience. I could tell that the young man had a big heart and was doing the best he could with what little training he might have had, but he was also exhausted and shocked by everything happening around him and unprepared to negotiate the cultural gap between the Syrian man and himself; in other words, the young man was too traumatized to empathize with the elderly man. But perhaps more poignant for me was the Syrian man’s ability to maintain his amour propre during this exchange—especially after all he’d endured to reach Lesvos.
How did this direct engagement with refugees’ extreme traumas affect you (or translate for you)?
Overall, the engagement was, and remains, more so with the refugees themselves rather than their traumas. Of course Humanity Crew focuses on mitigating each person’s respective traumas, but we regard the refugees first and foremost as people, not tragedies. That said, I think my interactions with refugees, whether at sea or on the beach or in a camp, are the kind that rarely occur in everyday life: meetings between two human beings without any shields or concerns about identity; encounters based on pure empathy. These are not easy engagements, to be sure, but I think each one has made me a better person.
In an interview with Haaretz, you said that as vital as the medical aid you were providing on the shoreline was, Maria’s work at the time “was far more significant.” Can you describe what she was doing, as well as how she and her tireless efforts helped to catalyze the creation of Humanity Crew?
About a week after we returned home to Haifa from our first mission on Lesvos, Maria and I were sharing stories about our time in Greece with a few friends. At some point, I showed them a widely published newspaper picture of a child whom I had resuscitated after a large shipwreck on October 28, 2015. Maria looked at the photo and said, “This is Ahmed.” That was the first time I could put a name to any of the refugees I’d helped. Maria went on to tell us how Ahmed had arrived at the hospital in a catatonic state due to trauma: He barely reacted when an IV was inserted into his hand; doctors had to close his eyes at night to prevent them from getting too dry and so hopefully he could sleep. Maria slept beside Ahmed for three days, hugging and gently talking to him in Arabic. After he finally started moving again, he took Maria’s hand, led her to the glass door of the hospital room, put his hand against the pane and said in Arabic, “I want to go home.” I started crying once I heard this, because I realized right then that, despite my efforts to rescue refugees, I had neglected their psyches, their souls; yes, I’d provided lifesaving CPR, but I hadn’t done anything to address the refugees’ psychological traumas. So, both Maria’s story and her work on Lesvos woke me up to the fact that refugees need mental health treatment as urgently as they need medical aid; I was also reminded that I’m not only a medical doctor, but a psychiatrist too. This epiphany, if you will, happened on November 7, 2015; on November 28, Humanity Crew sent its first delegation of therapists to Greece. This is why I say that Humanity Crew is the spirit of Maria.
Why did you and Maria choose to name your organization Humanity Crew?
We wanted a name that did not identify in any way with race, religion or politics—a welcoming name that would not make refugees or volunteers feel uncomfortable or exploited.
Humanity Crew’s website states that the organization’s mission is “to translate trauma and suffering to healing and resilience.” What kinds of mental health treatments does Humanity Crew utilize to accomplish this translation?
The success of this translation doesn’t depend so much on the types of treatments we provide as it does on how, where and when we provide them. The traumas that refugees endure are most responsive to treatment when they’re addressed as soon as possible, whether on rescue boats, on the shore or early in the camps. In these small, crucial timeframes, we can both prevent post-traumatic stress disorder and transform traumas into empowering experiences. The longer mental health treatment is delayed, however, the more embedded traumas become and the more at risk refugees are of developing PTSD and other mental health issues.
In your talk at TED2018, you tell the story of Omar, a 5-year-old Syrian boy, and the emergency intervention you administered to him. What are some of the important, or even necessary, differences between how you approach child refugees and how you approach adult refugees?
Children’s brains are still developing, which gives them much more plasticity than adults’ brains. This allows for not just the prevention or reduction of trauma in kids, but also the opportunity to transform their traumas into empowering experiences. But, as with Omar, it’s vital to treat child refugees as soon as possible, before trauma can permanently and immutably take root in their psyches.
Adults are a different story. Their brains are fully developed and absorb the traumas of their journeys wholesale. As with child refugees, time is of the essence when treating adult refugees, but interventions with the latter focus more so on assisting these women and men process their traumas in ways that attenuate the inevitable psychological damage that refugees sustain.
In the end, whether I’m treating a child or an adult, the goal is to maximize the individual’s capacity to cope with the trauma they’ve experienced.
I believe the term “mother tongue” speaks for itself: What else in the world can comfort us in times of intense crisis as much as our mothers’ words, the language or languages we’ve heard since birth? In addition, research has demonstrated that psychosocial intervention in the mother tongue of the patient is four times more effective than an intervention administered in a foreign language or through a translator.
Many people don’t realize that traveling across seas on dilapidated, overcrowded rafts and boats is only one part of the trauma inflicted upon refugees in their migrations. Why are the periods before and after the sea journey often their own nightmares?
More often than not, refugees are fleeing countries destroyed by war; they’ve witnessed and endured onslaughts of some of the worst acts human beings can commit against each other: indiscriminate bombing and shelling, executions, torture, rape, slavery. Compounding the nearly indescribable psychological distress refugees suffer as a result of the carnage in their countries is the loss of their homes, families, friends, work, finances, education—all of the “normal” things that anchor us and provide us a solid sense of self—in essence, their lives as they know them. And refugees are risking their lives to leave their countries not because they want to, but because they’ve lost everything and fleeing to Greece or other European nations is their only chance to possibly rebuild their lives.
Then, of course, comes the nightmare of arranging and making the sea journey. This involves negotiating exorbitant costs with shady smugglers who typically lie about the ease of the trip and provide refugees with fake, non-buoyant life vests. Then come the rubber dinghies so flimsy and overcrowded that water starts entering the rafts right after they’re seaborne, forcing some refugees to toss their luggage into the sea to reduce weight, while others will actually get into the water and hang on to the sides of the rafts to lighten the load. Sometimes, the dinghies are so crammed that passengers can barely move an inch and people in the middle of the rafts end up trapped face-down in the accumulated water and drown. Or the rafts, as with the overcrowded, unseaworthy boats and ships refugees travel on too, capsize and sink because these vessels simply cannot handle sailing when over capacity. This is usually when we witness refugees drowning by the hundreds.
Those refugees who are lucky enough to reach shore and survive then must confront segregation and isolation in ramshackle camps where their lives are stripped of identity and dignity: Obtaining citizenship and employment, for example, is almost impossible for refugees who land in Europe. These grave circumstances tend to feed on and fuel themselves, leading to massive poverty, and hatred, extremism and violence directed against or by refugees. Our mission at Humanity Crew is to prevent, as much as we can, refugees from falling into such socioeconomic and -political black holes.
Many people are also unaware that a considerable number of refugees trying to get to Europe belonged to the middle and upper-middle classes in their home countries. You’ve rescued and treated a lot of such individuals. What have you learned from them about their circumstances? What are some of their stories?
I’ve learnt that war does not distinguish between rich and poor. Moreover, the fact that somebody belongs to the middle- or upper-class doesn’t afford them any more of a right to pursue survival and protect their family than someone who belongs to the lower class. The stories told to me by refugees I’ve treated are very similar, regardless of their previous class affiliations. And they could just as well be my stories or yours—stories, really, of people who want only to live in peace, comfort and security.
Why have Humanity Crew’s operations in both Lesvos and Thessaloniki, Greece, been on pause since last year?
Sadly, finding funding to support our kind of humanitarian work is extremely difficult; even in the realm of philanthropy, mental health is largely marginalized. Because of a lack of funding, we had to make the difficult decision to close down our operations in Lesvos and Thessaloniki late last year.
On a positive note, our Athens operation has remained open and has expanded to include seven different locations throughout the city. We’ve also launched our online clinic and our training program, both of which extend Humanity Crew’s work beyond our Athens sites.
You and Humanity Crew are proof that ordinary people, people outside of governmental geopolitics, can do something about the refugee crisis—and something positive at that. From your perspective, then, how can people the world over gain a better understanding of the crisis, and what can they do to alleviate it?
Close your eyes and imagine you and all the people you love fleeing bombs, snipers, summary executions, torture, rape, slavery—all the horrors of war I mentioned earlier. Imagine then having to make a quite potentially fatal sea crossing like those I described above—only to reach shore safely and come face to face with hostile people, people who fear you’re a terrorist or a criminal or an economic threat, people who would rather push you back to your death. Now, contrast this response to that of Humanity Crew: We’re a small but dedicated group who will greet you with hugs, comfort, support, and a commitment to helping you regain your dignity and humanity. So, decide who you want to be in this crisis: the one who turns desperate people back to their deaths, or the one who embraces and shelters them?