SILENCE DOESN'T REALLY SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS

If there’s something getting married has taught me about myself, it’s that I think too much. I see a nice dress and I think to myself – she looks really nice in that. Or I glance over and think – Wow! Her make-up is flawless. But then I notice she isn’t smiling, hasn’t been smiling all day. So, I try to make jokes, but they’re all dry, falling flat at her feet. And when I finally ask- what’s your problem? I’m told that I haven’t said anything all morning. Did you even notice that I made my hair? I did. I’m sure I said something about it. That’s how loud and clear my thoughts are to me. So, we quarrel - because she insists I should have said it, and I insist right back that it’s more important that I felt it.

To be honest, I do have a point. Too many fakes out there saying things they don’t feel. But! No one is a mind reader. And the ears are still an important gateway to the heart. Especially when the negative stuff finds its way to the tongue readily. And, trust me, it does. Like in the middle of that quarrel, when the heat rises, sharpening memory, bringing back into clear focus all the unkept promises. I don’t think my little corrections. This food is a bit salty. Or, you left the lights on in the sitting room all night. No problems vocalizing thoughts then. So, it suddenly seems like a big conspiracy – to speak out on her faults and be silent on her strengths. And grunts substitute for ‘thank you’; a nod in the place of ‘this is really nice’. That’s what makes it feel almost adulterous (just as painful) when I hand those same words over to the girl that brings our order to the table, with a wide smile too. Just being polite. Till I turn back to my girl – the one sitting with me at my table - and she’s looking at me with daggers in her eyes.

So, now I know. Saying something nasty hurts as much as not saying something nice. And you should never get so familiar you forget to be courteous. Because, honestly, that’s where it starts, the process of forgetting; when something stays long enough in your head, never coming out, it becomes a memory. Suddenly, passion becomes a memory; the slight excitement at the thought of seeing her becomes a memory; the surge of gratitude at the voluntary sacrifices he makes everyday becomes a memory. And everything is taken for granted. Including how they feel. It’s taken for granted that they KNOW – that we find them attractive and appreciate everything they do. So, logically, we stop making the effort to show it. And that’s when it becomes clear that Love doesn’t run on silent thoughts, no matter how flattering.

So, now, when I begin to forget, I pinch myself and say it out loud – You are beautiful. And so this Love breathes.

THERE IS NOTHING GOLDEN ABOUT SILENCE

Maybe, at the beginning, when looking into each other’s eyes still elicits silly giggles. You don’t notice you’re spending time, but not really getting to know each other. Evenings together, but not really together; half the time you’re sitting in two separate seats, staring at a cinema screen; the other half you’re kissing or thinking about it. Not much meaningful conversation going on. But your feelings cast halos above each others’ heads. So, you think you’re compatible.

Till you get home from work. You are living together now. The TV is on and there’s enough space on the couch to sit without touching. You can eat dinner quietly too. And if there’s anything to say it has to be necessary­­; about house bills, can you pass me the remote, something needs fixing in the kitchen, and (when they finally come) the children. If you’re not talking about them, you’re not talking. Not even when you really can’t understand why he’s never noticed that you hate flowers, especially on anniversaries. It makes you angry; that he can’t read your thoughts and take you out instead; his inability to eat anything outside yam, rice and plantain is driving you crazy. But he’s frustrated too, because there are things he wants you to do in bed, but it’s all in his head. And he wishes you would just wait till half time before asking him about work.

But you’re not really asking him about work. You’re actually asking him to ask you about work, about your day, about anything. You just want to talk; talk about the girl in your office who thinks nobody knows she’s wearing body magic; it rained through the night and you lay awake listening to the clattering on the roof, it reminded you of childhood, how you would snuggle between both parents and how, sometimes, you would fight with your brother over who got the front seat. Nothing serious enough to warrant conversation. So, you keep quiet and watch football with him, again. Then, one day, he changes the channel without asking and you tell him coldly that he’s a selfish bastard. He looks shocked. Then, his eyes narrow. You’re not sure if calls you a witch or a bitch (because it’s muttered). Either way, you take off the gloves. But it’s inevitable; all your arguments end exactly where they started - in silence.

It doesn’t really matter how deep, pure, true or sincere your feelings towards each other are, neither of you is a mind-reader. And there are many things about each other you will not easily know or understand unless you talk. It’s like dancing together, no matter how good you are at it on your own, you still have to put in the effort to be good at it together. But it’s worth the trouble. If you can talk, you won’t have to hold things in until you explode. If you can talk, your house won’t be cluttered with pockets of tense silences. It’s small talk, more than anything else, that freshens the corners and airs out the house; that every day, meaningless banter of true friends. Maybe, what they should really say (at least when it comes to relationships) is that silence is golden, but only after a good conversation.

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