Dude, how does thou feel?

“It is supremely pleasant to direct myself to the office of your dignified position to greet you in a very special way, and at the same time bring to your attention the following issues…” This is how you start a letter asking any sort of authority for just about anything where I live. It´s one of the many examples that came to mind when I read a recent Economist article (“recent” meaning from December 2009) on the global de-formalization of public discourse as the internet, music and other media spread Western informality around the world. What´s interesting is that there are many examples to both support the idea and refute it here in Chalaco, and the difference seems to lie along generational lines. Which would make sense, seeing as young people tend to have the most access to – and interest in – international media, while older generations, like their counterparts around the world, remain more conservative and uninterested in exploring those outlets. But there are also many instances here where young people follow very formal cultural norms, and where older folks adopt newer terms and practices. And I´ve found that “politeness” is a very relative term.

Here are a few examples of ways that the old formality is still very much in use here. Formality in writing – you also have to provide two signed copies of any document, and have both stamped by the recipient – is echoed in public addresses and meetings, where everyone who speaks will go around the whole room greeting everyone present, if not by name at least in title (“Mr. Mayor, Mr. Lieutenant Mayor, Esteemed Authorities, Principal of the San Fernando Secondary School, Professors, Distinguished Guests, Esteemed Public in General…”) Depending on the person, he or she might then give a short – or unnecessarily long – speech, wishing everyone a very good afternoon and thanking all those present (maybe God, too) for the opportunity, for their participation, or whatever the case may be. Whether or not the same words have been repeated by several previous speakers is completely irrelevant. I´ve gained a lot of patience in my time here.

Maybe the most obvious example of formality in speech is the use of the “Usted” form when addressing others. As the article points out, “Usted” in Spanish is basically equivalent to using the long-outdated “thou” and “yee” rather than “you” in English, when addressing those outside one´s immediate circle. And although the article cites the end of the authoritarian Franco regime as all-but ending the use of the form in Spain (and similar effects in other European countries after mid-century), Peru’s transition to democracy after the Velasco military regime of the 1970s seems to have had little effect on the use of “Usted,” at least in our rural mountain community. According to the theory, old timers would be expected to still use it, which they do – and not only with strangers but also with people they grew up with and see every day. (The abuelita (grandmother) of our family here even addresses her adult children and three-year-old grandchildren as “Usted.”) But at the same time, most of my best friends in town, who are in their 30s and 40s, use it almost as regularly amongst themselves. The comparison to continental Europe may be a stretch, since in the time it takes you to travel the roughly 100Km. from Piura to Chalaco (up to a full day), you could visit several European cities (in other words, we´re a little isolated here.) Also, given that the way of life today in the villages where I work is a lot like stepping back a hundred years in time, you can see how these customs might be slow to transform. The arrival of the internet and international cable would be expected to change all that, and it is true that among younger generations you hear a lot less “Usted” than you probably would have 20 years ago.

So that´s all well and good, but the term “compa” throws a curveball into the mix. It´s short for “compadre,” the title you would use to address the godfather of your children. But over the years, it has been broadened to signify any close friend. Then at some point it was chopped in half and its use widened even more; in Chalaco it´s now used as the equivalent of “buddy” or “pal” in English. I´m pretty sure it´s a term distinct to our valley in Alto Piura, because I´ve rarely heard it anywhere else. (The next valley over uses “Paisano” – “fellow countryman” – in roughly the same function.) The interesting part is who uses “compa” – everyone. Given the older generation´s failure to phase out “Usted” in favor of “Tú,” you´d think “compa” would be equally unappealing to them. But it isn´t, at all. In fact, it´s not uncommon for two men to use the “Usted” form and call each other “compa” at the same time. This really threw me off for a while – to me, it´s sort of like saying, “Dude, how does thou feel this morning?”
I was drinking a few beers with some friends one night – as usual they were all sauced before I was really even buzzed (in a year and a half I still haven´t figured out how they can be such lightweights) – and one of them kept calling me “Usted.” I was trying to explain to him how weird it seemed to me that we could sit around drinking together (out of the same cup), talking about women and sex and who knows what else, and still not be able to tutear, or use the “Tú” form the way I figure real friends would. He didn´t seem to have a clue what I was getting at, so I gave up. Whether it was the booze interfering or some deeper cultural barrier I guess I´ll never know.

The Economist also mentions the use of last names as an antiquated formality in English, but here the custom remains strong. When two adult males meet for the first time, they introduce themselves by their last names only. This took me about a month to figure out right when I got to site, which made for some interesting exchanges. And then once I did figure it out, it didn´t actually help that much, since there are a total of about four last names in the entire district of 10,000 people. As for myself, I just go with Mateo, and sometimes when traveling I´ll even use my host family´s last name of Córdova if I don´t feel like spelling out Inbusch three (or ten) times.

A final observation is that in Chalaco, excessive formality in writing and greeting are not necessarily reflective of overall “politeness,” as the article suggests. You can easily be greeted by an adult with the “Usted” form, or even better, as “my esteemed Sir Córdova,” and then turn around a minute later to see him pissing in the street or picking his ears with a pen or hacking a loogie on the floor in someone´s kitchen. The obscene amount of public drunkenness from otherwise generally-respected community members is another example. What would be pretty clear violations of common courtesy in North America and Europe, here are are just another part of life, and in no way take away from the importance of correctly addressing a fellow citizen.

So at the risk of sounding totally clichéd, I guess the lesson is that even in a relatively Westernized culture like we have here, you´d go nuts if you tried to project your own cultural norms (even those that seem the most universal) onto a different people with a different history and different way of seeing things. As far as the use of “Usted” and other formalities, it would be interesting to come back in 20 years and see if those things have changed. The more I think about it, I hope things don´t change around here. And as long as people carry machetes instead of iPhones, I don´t think the old ways will be going anywhere soon.