Mokokoma Mokhonoana's Blog: Essays by Mokokoma Mokhonoana - Posts Tagged "technology"

Unlike most civilized “loving” and “caring” sons and daughters whose mothers are not deaf, and, not yet devoured by death, I do not remember the last time that I called my mother; just to check how she is doing.

I am not proud of that. But I am not ashamed of that either.

My mother is by no means the only victim of my not being a “loving” and a “caring” being. Chances are that some of the people whose phone number they know that I have, wonder, every now and then, if I have really saved their phone number. Or, if I have not lost their number.

Apart from having a few friends who, every now and then, call to complain about my not calling them every now and then, outgoing calls constitute way less than 10% of my phone’s “call log history.”

At any rate, next to my fondness of thinking, reading, writing, drawing, and—like many a man with a functioning sexual organ—having sex, follows: silence. And by that I mean, “not speaking,” not “not being spoken to.” (Many a reader is likely to wonder, “Why isn’t sex number one on the list?” So, allow me to cite—as a reply to such readers—a quip that is said to have been said by Aldous Huxley, “An intellectual is a person who has discovered something more interesting than sex.”)


The Price We Pay for Not Having Anything to Say

As subjective as this is: we seldom have something worth saying to say.

In order of prevalence, I would put—next to man’s fear of death—his fear of silence (when he is around non-deaf same-language-speaking human beings). Man fears silence so much that he has even invented an activity called “small talk.” Which is nothing but a verbal tool with which he, without delay, overpopulate the terrifying void called silence.

New Oxford American Dictionary defines “small talk” as, “A polite conversation about unimportant or uncontroversial matters.”

The two most important words of that definition being, I believe, “polite” and “unimportant.” The latter is straightforward, and, of secondary importance. So, let us briefly explore the former.

I find the word “polite” central; simply because he who chooses the seemingly petrifying task of keeping their mouth shut over partaking in small talk is usually regarded as “rude.” As a result, many a man speaks, not because he has something to say, but merely as a desperate attempt to avoid coming across as rude, uninformed, low self-esteemed, or, worse, as boring.

And as we all know, coming across as boring usually leads to an uninteresting sex life.

I have lost count of the number of instances where my fondness of silence has led to an other half who got mad at me simply because she, like most “sane” people, regard their other half’s keeping their mouth shut for more than thirty seconds as a sign of them sulking, or, being mad. (Interestingly, though we do not assume the most talkative person to be the happiest, we somehow regard the most taciturn person as the saddest, or, in the aforementioned instances’ instance, the maddest.)

To wit, a husband that keeps his mouth closed for an hour or two is usually punished with a wife that keeps her legs closed for a day or three.

(Speaking of small talk, in addition to speaking merely to avoid coming across as rude or as boring, we speak—even when we have absolutely nothing to say—because we are forever concerned about what the person next to us thinks of our looks, our clothes, our imperfections, etc. In such cases, small talk is, I believe, a gimmick that is used to, for a change, divert  attention [of those whom we are around—from our looks, our clothes, our imperfections, etc. to whatever random subject that the small talk we initiate is made of].)


There’s No Such a Thing as a “Romantic” Broke Man

One does not need to be a scholar of history to confidently conclude that the so-called civilization has inevitably led to the scattering of not only members of extended families, but those of nuclear families as well. And that there was once an era where a man’s family inhabited a territory that was small enough for him to travel across by foot.

One can further reasonably conclude that “love” existed before the invention of, say, the telegraph, or, that of the alphabet. In other words, “love” is not a fruit that grows from some artificial tree called civilization.

In a word, the so-called primitive man, too, loved and cared.

Many a reader is unlikely to disagree with the surmise that there existed an era—before the invention of the telegraph—where writing, say, a letter a month, to one’s loved ones—by he who is hundreds of kilometers away from his family—was considered as a hint of a loving and caring being. (One cannot help but wonder about the aforementioned man’s colleagues who were illiterate. Was their “alphabetic silence” assumed to hint the same thing, i.e., they do not love and care about their loved ones back home, as those of their literate colleagues?)

Let us fast-forward to the present (and the innumerable technologies with which one can keep in touch with one’s loved ones; regardless of the length of the piece of land that separates them).

To check on how one’s loved ones are doing, he who is “loving” and “caring” and kilometers away from his loved ones can write a letter, send a fax, make a phone call, send a chat or an SMS, etc.

Sending an SMS is so cheap, for many a man, that it is practically free.

That has, in a way, taken those who write a letter a month—to check on their loved ones—out of the “loving and caring beings” category.

Because of nothing but the instantaneousness, not to mention the cheapness, of, say, an SMS, sending an SMS a month—to check on one’s loved ones whom one does not live with—isn’t assumed to hint the same intensity of “love” and “concern” as sending a letter a month, to do the same, was, before the invention of the telegraph.

There seems to be a correlation between a society’s technological advancement, and, the supposed presence and intensity of its members’ love for their loved ones; something that seems to be hinted by the frequency of their checking on their loved ones.

As a result, a son who calls his mother once a month is seen as half-caring and as half-loving as the one who calls his mother twice a month. I guess that explains why rich men seem to be more romantic; and why unemployed men seem to give their children more attention.


© Mokokoma Mokhonoana