The random in Uber rides
I was not going to
walk back home with my shopping after visiting the hospital yesterday, so, I
called Uber cab to take me home. The name of the driver appeared to be a Christian forename and a Muslim surname; it would have been an interesting
conversation point.
When he arrived, the
phonetical sounds I heard as he was conversing with someone on his mobile phone
was unmistakably Yoruba, so, I engaged him with greetings and a sense of
familiarity almost to my regret. The first I have had of a Yoruba person,
probably the last I would want if this situation is repeated.
Patriarchy is the
default
We seem to have this
cultural programming to be first intrusive and probably judgemental. His first
inquiry was whether my wife was too busy to do the shopping. There is no
accounting for how long our people have lived in the west, some patriarchal
views die hard. Even if I were married, nothing regardless of my status stops
me from shopping.
So, I answered, I was
just returning from the hospital nearby and that presented an opportunity to do
some shopping. However, he would not let go, he wanted to know about my wife
and my kids. An apparently essential demonstration of my whatever it might be.
Wisely, this was not the time to introduce a radically implausible issue as
sexuality, but some matters needed addressing all the same.
Moving on to other
things
No, I do not have my
own children, I cannot have children by reason of many issues including the
consequences of chemotherapy. Then indeed I do have children in my nieces and
nephews. Knowing I cannot have children I am pragmatic enough not to involve a woman
in my complicated situation leaving her attached and yet bereft of issue.
Then, the matter of
issue is one of contentment in terms of whether you do require them or not and
whether you have made peace with your circumstances. Whether with issue or not,
someone would take up that responsibility for interment when you are gone, the
more important thing is to have impacted lives enough to be relevant in life
and the hereafter.
That being said, we
got to the matter of how frequently I visit home. Home to him is different from
home to me, but I humoured him, I have not been to Nigeria in over 30 years.
There began another inquisition. I volunteered I am English, though it did not
tweak that my grasp of the Yoruba language and completed sentences without
interspersing with English was probably commendable. I had committed infractions
I should be answerable for.
Coming up for air
Obviously, whereupon
that kind of situation within the Yoruba construct might well be considered
unfortunate, on wife, on children, and on visits, the fact is to be consumed by
circumstances over which you have little control or are not persuaded of will
distract you from fulfilling other aspects of life and purpose. I reckon my
message was clear from our interaction, I neither castigated nor excoriated
him, I just provided another perspective to things.
That he was taking me
into the centre of town elicited another comment about me being quite wealthy,
to which I responded in Yoruba, the blessing is there to be shared to all. Yet,
that cultural programming impervious to review does grate. I bet he has never
done any domestic shopping before, but that is none of my business, I just want
to get home.
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