Not all truth can save you
Aug 05, 2009
HAVE I ever told you the story of the importance of hollow apologies in love? Well, I am telling you now. My journalism started long ago when I was in P.2. My parents always had two maids and a shamba boy
HAVE I ever told you the story of the importance of hollow apologies in love? Well, I am telling you now. My journalism started long ago when I was in P.2. My parents always had two maids and a shamba boy.
I do not remember what titles we called them but I know that sometimes a lot of secrets went on among them which went unreported. The houseboys usually enjoyed competition from the two maids and some took advantage of this to disobey their agreement with Egypt and divert some Nile waters for irrigation.
But one day, I came running through the midday rain from school and interrupted an exchange of land titles that was supposed to remain unreported. And because of that, I enjoyed a free supply of sweets for sometime. Our standing orders were to wait for dad to pick us with a car whenever there was rain. But this time, I could not resist the joy of playing in mud puddles with a heavenly shower above as we screamed our way making motor vehicle noises. I arrived home unexpected, tiptoed inside to remove my drenched clothes because being found that wet could earn you a few lashes. Playing in the rain has always been a criminal offence in our family.
That is when I heard snorting noises that still remind me of scavenging pigs. I am sorry I have to skip the next paragraph because I do not want to be forced to apologise on the front page. But if I had written the paragraph, it would have ended with me threatening them with publishing the news of the missing land title. That was how I came to add sweets on my daily menu.
However, the two love birds eventually realised that their wages were fast disappearing down my throat. So, they cut off the supply, forcing me to broadcast the news before my parents.
I expected them to act as bold as the president: Arrest the cops in broad daylight, remove their pips and have them handcuffed in public. But I was shocked! One, because the two culprits vehemently denied it (the housegirl even cried and threatened to commit suicide) and two, I was instead punished for coming home in the rain as the culprits walked free.
I was also made to apologise on the front page for having published errors and falsehoods which tarnished the names of the honourable adults. My childish thoughts then not only discovered that some truths need not be told but also that not all apologies need to be genuine.
Yes, some apologies just have to be made for this world to keep rotating at 23.5 degrees. Look at the overzealous people, who see people having fun with partners that do not look exactly like their spouses and rush to broadcast the news.
Usually, they find themselves subjects of a combined hatred and a ruthless boycott from the very ‘culprits’ they reported about and the persons they thought they were trying to ‘save’. In the end, some are forced to apologise for errors and falsehoods, forcing a disfiguring frown on our honest creator’s face.
Even within the love, times recur when an honest statement raises more dust than was expected and even leads to a stand-off, sulking, sexual boycott and even violence. You have to be brave enough to ignore what the Gospel of truth demands and say; I am sorry.
For the wise of this world, this will not necessarily imply acceptance of error but prudent efforts to restore sanity to relationships. But when there is love, this rolls off easily because there is a strong motivation to return to harmony. When love is fading, it may become the test of survival.
I do not remember what titles we called them but I know that sometimes a lot of secrets went on among them which went unreported. The houseboys usually enjoyed competition from the two maids and some took advantage of this to disobey their agreement with Egypt and divert some Nile waters for irrigation.
But one day, I came running through the midday rain from school and interrupted an exchange of land titles that was supposed to remain unreported. And because of that, I enjoyed a free supply of sweets for sometime. Our standing orders were to wait for dad to pick us with a car whenever there was rain. But this time, I could not resist the joy of playing in mud puddles with a heavenly shower above as we screamed our way making motor vehicle noises. I arrived home unexpected, tiptoed inside to remove my drenched clothes because being found that wet could earn you a few lashes. Playing in the rain has always been a criminal offence in our family.
That is when I heard snorting noises that still remind me of scavenging pigs. I am sorry I have to skip the next paragraph because I do not want to be forced to apologise on the front page. But if I had written the paragraph, it would have ended with me threatening them with publishing the news of the missing land title. That was how I came to add sweets on my daily menu.
However, the two love birds eventually realised that their wages were fast disappearing down my throat. So, they cut off the supply, forcing me to broadcast the news before my parents.
I expected them to act as bold as the president: Arrest the cops in broad daylight, remove their pips and have them handcuffed in public. But I was shocked! One, because the two culprits vehemently denied it (the housegirl even cried and threatened to commit suicide) and two, I was instead punished for coming home in the rain as the culprits walked free.
I was also made to apologise on the front page for having published errors and falsehoods which tarnished the names of the honourable adults. My childish thoughts then not only discovered that some truths need not be told but also that not all apologies need to be genuine.
Yes, some apologies just have to be made for this world to keep rotating at 23.5 degrees. Look at the overzealous people, who see people having fun with partners that do not look exactly like their spouses and rush to broadcast the news.
Usually, they find themselves subjects of a combined hatred and a ruthless boycott from the very ‘culprits’ they reported about and the persons they thought they were trying to ‘save’. In the end, some are forced to apologise for errors and falsehoods, forcing a disfiguring frown on our honest creator’s face.
Even within the love, times recur when an honest statement raises more dust than was expected and even leads to a stand-off, sulking, sexual boycott and even violence. You have to be brave enough to ignore what the Gospel of truth demands and say; I am sorry.
For the wise of this world, this will not necessarily imply acceptance of error but prudent efforts to restore sanity to relationships. But when there is love, this rolls off easily because there is a strong motivation to return to harmony. When love is fading, it may become the test of survival.