A common language across Southeast Asia

We land in Bangkok, Thailand, and we're greeted by a humid warmth that envelops us, by intriguing aromas, by vibrant colors, and by the flavors of ripe fruit and spice, present even in the simplest dishes.

There, after overcoming the distance that separated us from this place, we quickly faced a new challenge: the language. For us, just as important as the places, were the people, but communication seemed impossible. However, it didn't take long for us to realize that, despite being faced with a language with sounds and characters we didn’t understand, the contours of this new “challenge” ended up being more permeable than we had imagined.

Even before learning to say the classic "hello" or "thank you," we realized that smiling could convey any of those meanings. We also discovered local gestures that communicated messages without producing any sound. We began to use a slight bow with our hands joined in front, as a greeting and/or a sign of gratitude and respect. Later, we learned that this “little bow” is called a Wai. These gestures became our first form of communication in this part of the world. As for sounds, they soon emerged, though in ways we hadn’t expected. In the streets of Sen Monorom, a rural province in Cambodia, children play among themselves, using their creativity to turn any object into a toy. When they see us passing by, they look at us with curiosity and enthusiasm, waving and repeating “Hello, hello!” over and over. As we approach, this creativity continues. They interact with us through countless gestures, like mimicking chickens, making animal sounds, touching our hands, or repeating sounds and words... anything goes when it comes to communication. This, of course, is always accompanied by laughter and smiles that set the tone for every interaction.

We remember a girl who, shortly after meeting Diogo, unexpectedly climbed up to cover his eyes and said "hello." Perhaps she knew the meaning of the word, or maybe she was just repeating what many others had said to her. In any case, just like in many other instances, the message got through, leaving us to ponder that language is not just about words.

While we were in a jungle in Mondulkiri, in Cambodia, we had the privilege of spending time with the Bunong, an indigenous ethnic minority. It was while cooking soup in a bamboo trunk by the fire that they shared aspects of their unique cultural identity with us, such as the fact that, despite being Cambodian, they have their own language.

Some of them learned to speak Khmer, the official language of Cambodia, from people outside their community, and a few even venture into English through the contact with tourists. In one of these interactions, where we exchanged words in English and Bunong, we found that some words we were using had no equivalent in their language. This was the case with "sparkling water," a drink that doesn’t exist in their culture. In many other moments, we even forwent words to communicate.

After one of the Bunong made a bamboo flute for each of us, we all sought out notes and applauded the most harmonious melodies. It was also that night that, with just a few words, the Bunong explained to us how to play two card games, which warmed up our night in the jungle.

If there’s one takeaway from our experiences, it’s that communication seems to be a human necessity where intention leads the way. Small gestures and even arbitrary sounds can be used to interact and convey messages when they reflect genuine intent.

This journey has made us feel that, beyond borders, a set of languages exist that transcend verbalization, which we all inherently understand. Gestures, sounds, smiles, the act of playing, music, and entertainment seem to emerge not only as different ways to communicate but, above all, as universal forms of empathy, understanding, and connection. After all, aren’t these some of the most important functions of communication itself?