Ever been in that situation?
Where you’re so busy staying on your own… doing your own thing… trying hard not to be a very obvious force of nature. And before you know it, some “thing” happens, taking you completely by surprise, making you wonder if planet Earth is planet Earth and not Jupiter in disguise.
Well, today was such a day. Give me a minute to post this picture that I like so much and I’ll tell you all about it.
There was a bit of an issue where I live. Going on for maybe two weeks now. Everyone else had been having power supply, but my place and a couple others? We were left in the dark. At first we thought it was a general thing, the usual tricks of a drunken government and all. But this morning, after a bit Sherlock Holming, we found out that some people from a random building had been siphoning our supply and using it as their own. By some weird and twisted connection, they had gotten a wire, cut off the part of ours connected to the power grid, and connected theirs in its stead.
Oh we were enraged!
Huffing and puffing and all that.
It was quite funny, you see.
At this point, I hadn’t still said a word. I was really mostly about how we would fix the problem so that I could charge the battery of my phone, cracked screen and all.
We got into a series of meetings, as expected. And when I opened my mouth to make a point, one female said to me “Please. Small girl. Don’t get involved.”
I turned to look at her.
I took in her owlish eyes, her funny forehead, her weird way of standing. And I said nothing. I ignored her. This would after all not be the first time that I have been called a teenager or small girl because of my body size. Lanky and tall and always shuttling between a size six and a size eight, I guess people will always assume that I am younger than my natural age. And even though she went about hers in a very rude way, I was not in the mood to speak grammar. I simply unlooked.
But did the electric owl shush it?
She went ahead to say this: Small girl, don’t test me. I’m not on your level, you see, I am a graduate of Mass Communication. Did you not hear me, how dare you ignore me?
Heh heh heh.
Of course that was all the ammunition I needed.
The Fat Lady in my head, she was ready to make grilled owl.
Between Goethe and Allan Poe, I wondered what simple quote of theirs would be enough to use in silencing the bird.
But before I could even reply and be done with her like boiled yam, one of my neighbours took it upon herself to answer for me.
My medical degree had to come out in the open then (and you will never understand how very uncomfortable this makes me. Blowing my cover and all). And by the time my neighbour was done belittling her “puny” degree in Mass Communication and hyper inflating my “doctor skills” amongst many other abilities, the owl was very contrite.
The moment she heard I was a certain type of doctor, respect for my person set in. I could see it in her eyes. Suddenly, I wasn’t just her skinny neighbour with weird hair and a scary collection of shorts and off shoulder tee shirts. I was magically this new person of import. And all for what? A medical degree? LOL!!!
Why couldn’t she have just not brought the “I am graduate” thing into a power supply meeting? What kind of complex would make a person do that?
And even if I were a teenager in that meeting, should I have been respected less? I mean, aren’t we all just people in the end?
Why do we like to can and label ourselves? The canning and labeling, who does it profit?
And why oh why should the body size of a person be the sole determinant of their abilities? Heck, is skinny a crime?
I cannot also tell you how many people have misjudged my therapeutic massage and manipulation skills. They say because I am oh so slight in build, the strength to do a proper soft tissue manipulation technique, to maneuver, I could not possibly have.
The looks of surprise on their faces when they are proven wrong though.
But goodness, what is wrong with the people in my society?!?!?!
I’ll simply stop typing and leave you with this quote by Carlos Santana…
It summarizes my thoughts on this matter, exactly.
And bye-bye to long conclusions, eh?
No one’s better than me.
I’m not better than anyone.
Whether it’s Eric Clapton or BB King we look straight at each other.
And that keeps it real.