My sister and I were visiting a hospital in Africa. We traveled down a deserted hallway that terminated in a bedroom. My dad was sitting up in bed, conscious and alert. My sister didn't seem surprised by this development; she hung back, but I went straight to my dad's side and touched him -- his shoulder and face --and asked how he was doing.

He told me about the new medication he was taking: he said it dissolved on his tongue and seemed dazzled by this. He demonstrated his newfound strength -- how he could raise his arms to scrub his legs with a sponge.

A smiling doctor soon appeared with her team. They spoke in Spanish, which I could understand but generally couldn't communicate in (my sister was far more successful). When they saw the progress my dad had made, they all exclaimed, and I was able to translate for his benefit, "The leg scrubbed itself!" My dad was miffed at the use of the passive voice -- arguing that nothing had scrubbed itself, that he'd scrubbed it. "It’s Spanish," I explained. "A lot of verbs are in the passive voice."

My sister explained his confusion to the doctors. They were all amused. "The leg scrubbed itself," they kept repeating over and over again, while conducting their business with large grins.