Imagine that during your vacation in Brasil you sign up for a trekking in the Amazonia and, while walking happily in the jungle, in the shadow of one giant tree, you find a child. Suppose you decide to ignore a number of laws and take him with you as a souvenir. Imagine the child lives happily with you for a while. He grows up to be a little dictator that demands to wash his teeth before lunch and says mama, tata and auto and you cannot feel more proud.
Then, one day, a conference is organized in Nuremberg around the topic of amazonian tribes, and being a slightly snobbish middle class that fought giant mosquitoes in the jungle, you would not miss it for the world. You go there with your lovely kid and explains whoever want to hear how well he says mama, and tata, and auto, and you keep bragging until you turn your head and find him talking with a nice lady dressed in feathers:
-¡Ení!
-Ja, genau, das geht nichts
-Samá
-Schau mal! Ein Auto
Can you imagine how you would feel in this hypocritical situation? That is exactly how I felt in the "family day" that Martin's company organized. Apparently, our dear child does not only say mama and tata and auto. He speaks German, and as proud as I am of this little living miracle, I cannot help wondering for a second from which tribe in the jungle did we get him, and if I should buy him some feathers, or in this case, lederhosen. Even worse, will he think something similar about his parents? Maybe he wonders from which far away village we emigrated, how come we became his parents, and how is it possible we don't understand him, when it is so obvious what he is trying to say.
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