Modern Mayans: A Hidden World Closer Than You Think

by Jace Norton

Some Context: Perception and Perspective

Perception — or, in other words, the way that we naturally interpret the input of the world around us—can often be deceiving. Perception is largely based on your position, i.e., where are you physically. For example, you may perceive two objects as being exactly the same size, but when you change your position, your perception changes. Perspective is an intentional way of viewing something. In other words, perspective is forcing yourself to change your position, to look at something from another viewpoint, or remove external factors affecting your perception. While perceptions can be deceiving, perspectives can be enlightening. For example, take the below images that demonstrate both perception and perspective:

Increasing Perception

When I set out to volunteer as a service missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints at the age of 19, I had no idea—like many of you reading this now—that there were Mayan languages still spoken today. I had heard a little about the ancient Mayan empire, knew that it had reached its zenith sometime in the pre-Columbian era, and knew that it had been located somewhere in Central America. Like many of you, I had learned very little about the Incan and Aztecan empires and did not have an extensive level of understanding of their history. Like many (if not most) of you, I had assumed that the languages from these ancient civilizations were long gone, completely wiped out by brutal Spanish and Portuguese conquest and colonialism, maybe spoken or studied now only by archeologists or historical anthropologists. My perception, based on the fact that I had never seen or heard anyone speaking a Mayan language, was that they weren’t spoken today.

It wasn’t until I actually got to Guatemala in September 2010 that I started to understand that Mexico and Central and South America are far from being the monolithically Spanish-speaking regions that I had been taught they were. My first exposure to the world of Indigenous languages came when I was assigned, almost immediately upon arrival in Guatemala, to learn one. I had had a decent amount of exposure to Spanish, having grown up in a largely bilingual community in Dallas, Texas, and so had picked up Spanish relatively well in the nine weeks I had spent studying it. So it was that I was assigned to go up to the highlands of Alta Verapaz and to live and work among the Q’eqchi’ (Kek-chee) people and to learn the Q’eqchi’ language. I was given a basic grammar guide made by other missionaries, a small Spanish – Q’eqchi’ dictionary, and a set of scriptures in Q’eqchi’, and was dropped off with a companion who also didn’t know the language.

Unlike with Spanish, I had absolutely no exposure to Q’eqchi’, which, contrary to what some people assume, is nothing like Spanish. Q’eqchi’, with its ejective or glottalized consonants (these give the language an almost “clicking” sound), laryngeal sounds (like the /q/ sound, similar to /k/ but in the back of the throat), short and long vowels, and idiomatic nature, was both fascinating and extremely daunting to learn, especially with no formal training. I spent months training my mouth to imitate the sounds of the language with as close to a native accent as I could, which was ultimately the trickiest part about learning the language. Learning the grammar and vocabulary was somewhat less difficult, but challenging nonetheless.

It took me over eight months of living in some of the most remote villages in Guatemala where almost none of the people spoke any Spanish before I started to gain fluency in Q’eqchi’. By then I had developed a deep love for the language and the people who spoke it, and an insatiable desire to learn as many words, expressions, and stories in Q’eqchi’ as I could (ask me sometime about the recitation I learned for when someone has the hiccups). By the end of my two-year service, I was fluent in both Spanish and Q’eqchi’ at an advanced level, and was deeply saddened to be leaving the people, region, and language I had come to love so much.

Upon returning home, I considered myself to be decently educated about Latin American Indigenous languages—after all, I spoke one of them. And yet, I was still woefully ignorant—not as much about the fact that they existed, but more so about where they existed. I, like most of you reading this, had assumed that speakers of these Indigenous languages existed almost solely in their home countries, that they were too isolated, too remote to really make it as far as the United States. I remained in this ignorance for nearly eight years, during which time I had assumed that, as amazing as it had been to learn Q’eqchi’, ultimately I wouldn’t really utilize it unless I went back to Guatemala. ?My perception, because I hadn’t heard of any Q’eqchi’ Mayans immigrating to the US, was that there weren’t any.

New Perceptions, New Perspectives

It wasn’t until 2019, seven years after returning home, that I was finally recruited by someone from a company who said they were looking for Q’eqchi’ interpreters for immigration hearings. At the time, I imagined that this would be a fun way to continue using my Q’eqchi’ language skills and make a bit of extra money two or three times a year. So, I agreed to complete the training and testing necessary to become a court interpreter and received my first assignment in January 2020. When they told me my first assignment would be in New York City, I was taken aback; after all, I myself had never made it to the “Big Apple,” and yet there was a Q’eqchi’ immigrant from Guatemala who had made it all the way there?

After waiting a couple of weeks to receive a performance review from my first assignment, I was officially able to start accepting more cases. Contrary to what I was expecting, I was absolutely shocked to receive dozens of requests a week in major cities all across the U.S. I was flying every week to several major cities to provide interpretation in-person, and I would often interpret for cases over the phone while I was staying at different hotels waiting for my in-person assignments. At this point, all my incorrect assumptions about speakers of Mayan (and other Latin American Indigenous languages) not living in the United States were dismantled piece by piece.

As the pandemic came in 2020 and the courts were all shut down, I started branching out to accept telephonic interpretation assignments from various companies in other fields. Again, I was surprised to find that my phone was nearly constantly ringing. I interpreted for new mothers in hospitals, mental health evaluations, social services interviews, and even once interpreted for a class on painting. By now, I knew for a fact that there were many Q’eqchi’ immigrants living in the United States. But, as I hope I am starting to emphasize, even when you think your perception is clear, there is always more to see and understand.

I eventually ended up being recruited to work as a Q’eqchi’ interpreter at an emergency intake site for unaccompanied children near the U.S.-Mexico Border in 2021. It was here that I was really able to tangibly see the demand, not just for Q’eqchi’, but for dozens of Mayan and other Latin American Indigenous languages, and I also saw that the current language service providers at the time weren’t equipped to provide the services needed in these languages. It was then that the idea was born in my mind to create a language service company that would be uniquely focused on these lower-diffusion languages, one that would be driven by a passion for language access equitability and would be built on principles of compassion and a desire to do good. Thus, I founded Maya Bridge Language Services in late 2021.

As I embarked on my efforts to advocate for Indigenous and lower-diffusion language accessibility, we began primarily working with Mayan Indigenous languages, predominantly from Guatemala. In a very short time, we began receiving requests for any and every Latin American Indigenous language that our clients were encountering (along with other Indigenous or lower-diffusion languages from other parts of the world). The key was that, since our clients were working on government contracts, our interpreters were required to be based in the U.S. with U.S. work authorization. While most other agencies in the industry were unable to find resources for U.S.-based Latin American Indigenous language interpreters, I knew we would need to go the extra mile to do all we could to find those resources. Ultimately, we were driven by the thought that if we didn’t find those resources, the children needing language services would simply not be able to communicate with the caseworkers trying to help them.

I set about identifying communities all across the United States where there are higher densities of Latin American Indigenous populations. I was again surprised to see dozens of large Mayan communities in the United States, these diasporas within the diaspora, that are typically just considered part of “Latino” or “Hispanic” communities. In almost every major city in the U.S., you’ll find Mayan Indigenous populations, if you know where to look. Communities of Q’eqchi’, K’iche’ (Key-chay), Mam, Q’anjob’al (Kan-ho-ball), Akateko, Ixil (Ee-sheel), Chuj (Choo) and other language speakers are in virtually every mainland state. And that’s just the languages from Guatemala. You’ll find entire communities of Mixteco, Zapoteco, Chinanteco, Tzotzil, Tzeltal, and other languages as well. Over the course of the last three years we have worked diligently to increase the pool of available interpreters for these languages by putting in the work to find and mobilize qualified bilingual speakers of these languages. We have worked with Spanish and English bilingual resources and have introduced them to the field of interpretation by helping them get training and experience. We now have one of the largest (if not the largest) networks of Latin American Indigenous language interpreters in the U.S.

Q'eqchi' at "The Bean"

My experiences have helped shape my perspective to understand that, although not always immediately visible, Indigenous people are almost all around us. One such experienced happened recently this past October while I was vacationing in Chicago. My son had somehow developed a fascination with the "Museum of Ice Cream", and begged me to take him to Chicago to see it. So it was that during his fall break that we had planned to spend in Iowa where my parents live, I decided to take my son on a road trip to Chicago.

Once we got there, one of the first things we had on our agenda was to visit the iconic Cloud Gate sculpture at Millennium Park, sometimes referred to as "The Bean." When we arrived there was a decently sized crowd, as would be expected, around and under the sculpture. We walked underneath the sculpture, took pictures together, and were simply enjoying a nice fall day when suddenly I saw a group of younger men who looked to me like they were very likely could be Mayan. I tried to listen to see if I could hear anything they were saying to see if they were speaking in a Mayan language, but the din of the crowd was too loud for me to pick anything up. I noticed that one of them was wearing a "Gallo" hat, the most popular brand of beer in Guatemala, so I knew that they were almost certainly from Guatemala. I approached them and, speaking in Spanish, asked where they were from. They told me they were from Guatemala, as I already guessed, so I asked them what part. They said "Cobán", a larger city in Alta Verapaz, which is one of the departments of Guatemala where Q'eqchi' is primarily found. I then launched into speaking Q'eqchi', having a hunch that they would understand me. They gaped and gawked at the 6 foot 3 redhead who was able to speak to them in their native language, a couple laughed in disbelief, and one immediately pulled out his phone to record. It was a surreal and almost comically serendipitous encounter, to say the least.

They told me that they were living and working in Missouri, but had decided to take a road trip to Chicago, and just happened to be at Millennium Park under The Bean at the exact same time as one of the only people in all of the United States that could speak and understand their native language. I chatted with them for a bit, then we posed together for a couple of photos and exchanged numbers. I walked away laughing to myself at the odds of the encounter. A few minutes later, one of the ones to whom I had given my number suddenly called my cell phone saying they needed some help--they couldn't find their parked car and were worried it might have been towed or stolen. So, as I walked to the Museum of Ice Cream with my mother and son, I stopped a passing police officer, asked what to do if your car was potentially towed, got a 411 info number, and called. Their car had indeed been towed, so after going through the museum, we met back up with the four of them, drove them to the impound lot, and I helped interpret for them as they communicated with the staff there. I wondered what would have been the outcome if they had not had someone like me to offer interpretation for them. Certainly the impound lot staff, police, or the city would not have offered them anything other than English to Spanish interpretation, which even that might have been a stretch. This was definitely a lower stakes situation than, say, an emergency room visit or court hearing, but if you think that Indigenous peoples always have access to interpreters in those situations, you'd be wrong.

Consequences

We often don’t recognize that many of our neighbors who have limited English proficiency often face another language barrier within the diaspora in which they live. Mayan immigrants, for example, often have limited proficiency in Spanish, meaning that when they try to communicate with people at the hospital, in the courtrooms, in schools, (or at impound lots) they are going to first try to work through Spanish. Far too often, when these Indigenous language speakers are trying to access services and communicate, they are mislabeled as Spanish speakers, and the only option they are provided is a Spanish interpreter. At some point, it may become evident that they are limited Spanish proficient (or limited Portuguese proficient, French proficient, etc.), and from there the organization from which they are trying to access services or with which they are trying to communicate may or may not offer interpretation services in their native language. The result is lower quality care and services for speakers of Indigenous languages, uninformed decision making, and even dire miscommunication.

In one of the court hearings I did as an interpreter, I interpreted for a man who was in federal custody because, as an alien in immigration proceedings, he had been accused of statutory rape and incest. During the course of the questioning from the judge regarding these serious charges, it became extremely clear that this gentleman had not had access to a Q’eqchi’ interpreter at any point during the accusation or investigation. This individual, let’s call him Juan, was in a relationship his 17-year-old partner, and the two of them had come to the United States and were living with her father. Since his partner was under the age of 18, she was required to attend school by law. When she became pregnant while attending high school, teachers and staff, without taking the time to ensure appropriate understanding of the situation through the use of Q’eqchi’ interpreters, called the police and brought charges of statutory rape against Juan. The fact that the legal age for consent in the state of Texas is 17 seemed to not prevent authorities from pressing charges, likely because, of the three individuals involved in the incident—Juan, his partner, and his partner’s father—none of them spoke Spanish very well. The police, who also did not use Q’eqchi’ interpreters, questioned Juan in Spanish about his relationship with his partner. Juan tried to explain that she was his “wife,” although technically speaking she was legally only his “partner.” It is very common in Indigenous Guatemalan cultures for young couples to enter a “union” in which they don’t legally get married—in fact, the word “spouse” in Q’eqchi’ sum-aatin (literally “their/our word is agreed upon,” or in other words, they have given each other “their word”) doesn’t distinguish whether someone is legally married, only if a person is committed to another.

Juan explained that they lived together and that they lived with “their father.” When police asked for Juan to elaborate on his relationship with his partner’s father, Juan told police that the man was their “papá,” the Spanish word that literally means “father.” But Juan was using the word in a more “cultural” and less literal sense. Unfortunately, the police didn’t catch the cultural nuance, and interpreted that to mean that both were children to the same man and that Juan was thus committing incest.

As the judge asked questions, and as Juan was able to clearly express himself in his own language through an interpreter, it became clear that Juan was not committing incest. Although it isn’t my role as an interpreter to interpret the law (pun intended), it also seemed clear to me that, according to my understanding of the law, Juan was also not committing any crime being in a consensual sexual relationship with his partner, as she was of the age of consent for the state. Although I never discovered what became of Juan, I feel confident that the situation very likely would have ended much differently had proper interpretation been provided in his native language.

This is just one example of how a lack of qualified interpretation in an individual’s native language can have serious and dire consequences. There are countless other horror stories of uniformed consent during medical operations, familial separations, and even death, that likely could have been avoided if proper interpretation had been available. Having been in the industry now for several years, it seems clear that Indigenous languages, because they are not in nearly as much demand as the bigger languages like Spanish, have not received the same attention to detail and quality of service. It is also clear that up until Maya Bridge was founded and began advocating for and providing better services in these languages, many didn’t know where to look.? Now, however, as we have become somewhat of a “name brand” for Indigenous language access services in the U.S., and as others have done their part to increase Indigenous language access, there should be no excuse to provide substandard services and care to speakers of Indigenous languages.

Conclusions

In the three years since founding Maya Bridge, time and time again, my expectations and assumptions have been challenged and my awareness has expanded; my perceptions have changed. Although Maya Bridge, as the name implies, has had a strong emphasis on Mayan and other Latin American Indigenous languages, I have also learned (or in some cases, relearned) that Indigenous languages (in other words, languages native to a geographical region that are of lower diffusion and are not typically taught in schools, used in government, etc.) come from every part of the world, including right here in the United States. In our increasingly globalized world where certain languages like English, Spanish, French, Russian, Mandarin, or Portuguese dominate (often because of brutal conquest and colonization), it’s so easy to forget that there are over 7,000 languages spoken on this planet. In the United States, sometimes as a society we barely even register that most people in the world don’t speak English, much less that there are speakers of Indigenous languages living all around us. Our perception, based on the input we are receiving around us, is incomplete.

Organizations working in health care, legal offices, and government and community services who think that they don’t really have a need for Indigenous language services are likely wrong. I recently met with a hospital in my home state of Utah to ask about their needs for Indigenous language access and was told that they “don’t really see those languages.” Having met with dozens of other individuals in Utah who have expressed that they are specifically encountering some of these languages and have not had the resources to be able to help them, it became clear that what I had heard was, in fact, true. Not that the demand isn’t there, but that many times organizations aren’t seeing it. They look at high-level data regarding language access, which doesn’t always capture the instances where a Spanish interpreter was called, it was determined Spanish was not the individual’s primary language, and a family member was used to get through the appointment. The perception of demand for Indigenous language access is deceptive, and often requires one to seek perspective by intentionally viewing the issue in another light, to truly understand and address the need.

A small county court in Idaho might not think they would need a Tzeltal interpreter, yet we recently provided Tzeltal interpretation services for a small county court in Idaho. A hospital in Georgia might not be expecting to have a Tlapaneco-speaking woman come into the emergency room in labor at 3 AM, and yet, it happened and happens routinely in hospitals in virtually every state of the country. Schools accustomed to providing Spanish interpretation and translation for Latinx families in their districts may not realize that a sizable group of students and their families actually have limited Spanish proficiency, and that their native language is Chuj, and yet they are there. And the list goes on and on. Remember: our perception of the world around us is completely dependent on our environment, or our “physical” position. You might not physically see Indigenous people around you, but I promise you that they are there and in larger populations than you would guess, and likely closer than you would imagine. Our perspective is dependent on our mindset, and our willingness to change our position, to open our eyes to increased awareness, understanding, and education.

At the conclusion of this article, I hope that you have come away with an expansion of understanding and awareness. I hope that these stories and this information have helped to influence perception regarding Indigenous languages and issues and will encourage you to seek to gain better perspectives. There are still dozens of topics to address when talking about Indigenous languages and Indigenous language access, topics that I hope you will be eager to hear more about. Most of all, I hope that we can all be more cognizant of the overlooked and under-serviced communities all around us, hidden worlds of rich culture, heritage languages, and beautiful people, often hiding right in plain sight.

About the author:

Jace Norton discovered a love for languages while volunteering as a missionary for two years in Guatemala from 2010-2012. During that time he learned Spanish and Q’eqchi’ (Kekchi), a Mayan language from Guatemala, fluently. He later went on to major in Arabic at Brigham Young University and spent considerable time studying and working in Amman, Jordan. Although he never expected to work in the field of language access, his life experiences and circumstances seemed to propel him towards it. He was eventually recruited to work as a Q’eqchi’ interpreter where he began to understand the considerable demand for Q’eqchi’ and other Indigenous languages like it in the US. Not long after becoming an interpreter, Jace felt compelled to do more for Indigenous language access than he could do on his own and founded Maya Bridge in 2021. Since then, he and his team have worked towards filling the niche need for language services in Indigenous and other lower-diffusion languages and have worked in virtually every state and across all fields. Maya Bridge now provides services in over 125 Indigenous languages, as well as over 50 lower-diffusion languages from around the world and over 20 other widely spoken languages like Spanish, French, and Russian. Jace lives in Salt Lake City, Utah with his 8-year-old son who both keeps him young and makes him feel very old, and he enjoys rock climbing in his free time.