In my ethnicity, Yoruba, we have a million ways of expressing the deepest emotions with the most minimalist of verbal accompaniments.
For instance, if you quickly go from arms hanging limp to grabbing your head with both, I can tell as an onlooker that you have just been stunned with a surprise. If you accompany that with a sharp ‘haa!’ I know that a Caucasian would have fainted. We usually are not so dramatic.
This is totally different from the emotion that leaves your mouth open, soundless. That too is a surprise but possibly of a milder variation.
We feel and express sorrow too.
Both arms wrapped around your head with an accomplishment of a deeply etched sour face. You would have scored.
After the initial expression of stunned surprise, leading into the deeper expression of sorrow, if it is a truly deep and long-lasting sorrow, like sudden death or a wife catching an unfaithful husband in the act, we are usually allowed to lapse into the occasional series of ‘hmmms’, deep sighs that bring you into the world of the grieving or fashioned to heighten the sense of guilt of the ‘criminal’. Usually, you will know enough not to utter a word or do anything if you happen to be the object of the grief.
The deep sighs are accompanied with carefully timed clapping sometimes. That is the wonder on grief. The unexplainable. Just keep quiet, even if the grieving speak to you. They are not requesting that you answer. Just nod or give a deep ‘hmmm’ of your own. When it is safe, promise to return and leave.
Never stamp your foot if you don’t intend to express helpless frustration. That is what we do when we are frustrated, angry and we are helpless. Especially where people who are far too old for us to challenge or disobey are involved. If you are younger, like a kid, you are allowed to throw in a little cry but don’t overdo it. You just end up with a spanking that makes all the frustration a thing of the past.
There are eye movements for ‘come here’, ‘leave this place’, ‘stop looking into other people’s food’, ‘If I will catch you’, ‘you will get it when we get home’ and so on. All without a word. If anything, the words are probably totally different from what the looks are saying. And your case is worse if you act in a way that brings other people into the silent and private conversation. That is when you get the ‘wait till we get home ‘ look.
There, in that culture, I learnt to behave myself no matter how exciting the occasion is, act with proprietary conduct, no matter who is my audience, speak in cultured tones and language, because rudeness would have gotten my butt and palms warm in reprimand, consider all else even as I step out to look after myself…and a million other life lessons.
My parents would have been ashamed of Donald Trump as they would have been of Sola Saraki, Buhari, the leaders of Arewa, Ohaneze Ndigbo, the opinion leaders in the Middle Belt and the Delta and they definitely would have shaken their heads at the elders of Yorubaland, in the most disgusted fashion, throwing in a gentle shake of the head so it is clear what they think of them all.
Bimbo still muses.
