“Good day to all the town of Rivadavia, it's always a pleasure to be able to talk to you”. That's probably the most nerve-wracking phrase I've had to speak (in Spanish, of course) in my experience thus far as director of this project, because every time I have to say it I'm “on the air”.
Radio is a big deal here. In a small, rural town where access to TV is limited and illiteracy rates are uncomfortably high, radio still reigns as the king of local news, music, and advertising. Television is definitely present—both cable and satellite (DirecTV)–but with no local programming, the majority of TV viewing time goes to fútbol (soccer), novelas (soap operas), or pelis (movies). These things offer entertainment, but they do not—I would argue—provide the same feeling of interconnectedness with a community that listening to the radio can. And, of course, buying a radio is simply cheaper.
To further prove my point is this fact: there are three radio stations in Rivadavia. The community station, run by the municipal government, plays a mix of everything and is the most popular, followed by the other two, which are privately owned and broadcast exclusively evangelical Christian content.
Interestingly, despite their influence, they are surprisingly willing to give out free air time. And that's where we come in. Since we are doing so many things both in the town and in the community, the most effective way to get out a message is by dropping by the radio once or twice a week and announcing it on the air. Now that we are friends with most of the staff, we can basically just show up and within 5 minutes be in the studio talking about the latest plan or meeting to the entire Rivadavia area. The only unfortunate part is that the other ADRA team members seem to think it's most appropriate that I talk the most because I'm director of the project, even though I am obviously the least fluent in Spanish.
The truth is, though, that even with the semi-present language barrier, by the time I'm actually talking and conversing with the host I feel almost entirely comfortable. For some reason, despite all the nerves I have just beforehand, in the actual moment when I have no choice but to speak I get a wave of inexplicable fearlessness. Even if my words are simple and I make mistakes in pronunciation or conjugation, something about that spontaneous moment in which I am only subconsciously aware of the hundreds of people that might be listening frees me of my normal social inhibition. It's exhilarating, but strange; why is it that talking with more people would make me feel less afraid than talking with just one or two?
I still don't have a good answer for that question, but I do know that I love being a part of the radio medium. Before I arrived in Rivadavia I had actually started a weekly radio program with my friend Brian called “Teh 402 Show”. Using a rather clever combination of internet technology (Skype, Gmail phone, Ustream, and Facebook), we were able to broadcast our discussions, play our favorite music choices, and even take calls and texts. Even though we never got too many listeners, the idea of communicating with an audience was not only fun but fulfilling. In an age when we are overstimulated by the visual, the experience of sitting back and listening to a conversation or a song or a story is still incredibly compelling.
And here in Rivadavia, it's even more important. Being a constant presence on the radio not only helps our project to be better known the Wichí community, it also brings their situation to light in the community at-large. That heightened awareness of the problem is, in my eyes, the first step towards deeper understanding and less discrimination. By breaking down my language barrier, perhaps at the same time I am helping to topple bigger walls.
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