Interpretation . . . harder than it sounds?

My job description was clear, I was to organise some interpreters to take part in a conference for Solidarité International. The specifications were that they had to be volunteers. So far so good an email around my university was all that sufficed and several people answered my call for help. In preparation glossaries, the timetable for the week, directions and instructions were handed out. Fully prepared we set out at 6.30 on Monday morning to find Basile (our contact at Solidarité) and the head quarters. We eventually found the head quarters where were greeted by a very nice individual although at this point nothing was explained to us. We were led into a waiting room where we sat calmly waiting for the infamous Basile to arrive. It did not strike us as odd that we were 5 unknown Anglophone girls sitting in the head quarters of a French NGO company but apparently it was as everyone who came in stared at us, which made us feel unbelievably comfortable ( I may have employed the use of sarcasm here)! Basile arrived and welcomed us to the head quarters, offered us several beverages and then once again we were left alone not really sure what to do. Eventually people started to migrate towards the door and Basile told us to follow as we were going to the conference room. We had no idea what to expect as we had not been given any information about the proceedings so once we arrived we waited patiently by the door so that if it was too difficult we could run away and start new lives as beggars. We were informed that there would be three Anglophones who we had to interpret for and that we would share a table with them at the front of the hall. We were asked to translate what we heard and whisper it to the three Anglophones. At this point we had not been introduced to them, hence the repetition of the three Anglophones, but Basile soon called us round and introductions were made. There was a woman from Kenya called Pennine, a woman from Zimbabwe called Dumi and man from Thailand called Eh. None of them were native English speakers so every so often we encountered comprehension problems. After croissants and beverages the conference got under way. Now I should add that all the interpreters were volunteers more importantly inexperienced volunteers who had never interpreted in their lives, including myself. We were thrown in the deep end hoping not to drown.

To be continued . . .