I did it again; I messed up a friendship. Having not seen this lady for about a decade running into her in a crowded Addis street was one of those “Aha!” “Oho!” moments. Why was I so excited at meeting her! Well, just to save your time and energy, it’s not what you probably are thinking. Had it been ‘that,’ there was no way I could have forgotten her name. (What in the world am I getting myself into!) We were just friends; I rest my case.
“Hi…” what followed wasn’t an embrace or anything close to that. I practically crashed into her! (Have they really started making those breast implants around here? Just curious.) Not half as enthusiastic as I was she gives me that lifeless, plastic-like, almost diplomatic smile; throws a few nice words my way and it was “Ciao, ciao signore!” on her part, with “call me;” as a parting shot. It was probably her way of giving me what amounts to the soccer referee’s red card. How in the world can I call without her giving me her number!
It took me some time to find out what really pissed her off; I called her by the wrong name! Getting someone’s name wrong is no more the innocent mistake it used to be. In these days of quick tempers and quicker judgments, when the most trivial of things snap people’s nerves calling someone by the wrong name could prove a cardinal sin. I’m not very good at recalling names of people I haven’t seen for some time.
If there is a bitter joke in the above experience of mine, then it’s on me. Having unwittingly offended a couple of old acquaintances I should have learned my
lesson. Unfortunately, my ‘species’ has long stopped learning from past mistakes. In my corner of the world, history repeats itself for all the wrong reasons; the lady would have nothing to do with such nonsense. As far as she is concerned I’ve been given my one-way ticket.
It doesn’t hurt watching your steps. You run into this guy whom you almost have forgotten ever existed.
“Hi!”
“Hi, Robin Hood! What a surprise!” At least he got your name right. Robin Hood, that’s you.
Without thinking twice you try to measure up to his enthusiasm “So how are things going with you, Taras Bulba?” Ouch! And that is a big “OUCH!” too. You don’t have to be a body language expert to realize you blunder. He didn’t have to say, “Whom did you just call me?” The story is written all over his face. Or, was his name Don Corleone? Bulba or Corleone, names are important, and few people take it lightly when you call Svetlana something like Susan. People around here have become insanely sensitive these days. So much so that, what used to be innocent mistakes are now conspiracy theories. Deliberate, calculated, and meant to have the deadly precision of a sniper’s bullet. The jury is in before you know it!
Mostly, names suggest the part of the country you or your parents are from. Without having to see any birth certificate or ID you can say, “She’s from such and such part of the country,” with the margin of error not that pronounced. Sadly, our political polarization has cut through our social fabric. There are no mistakes, only political statements. If the guy is John and you call him “Hi Vladimir!” you must have something up your sleeve. That’s how unceremonious things have become. In times when making good friends has become difficult, losing the old ones is not very smart.
About us souls in the in the media, well, things could prove sort of funny. Call it vice or virtue, even your fiercest enemy isn’t able to block himself out completely as not to read your name in the papers, see your face on the small screen, or hear your voice over the airwaves. Here is the woman who hates you and has vowed, “I’ll never mention his name; or be anyplace close to where he is,” something very tricky to stick to. One night she’s at home with the family winding down after a hard day. After a satiating dinner it’s time for the evening news. The television is turned on, and what happens? You are the newscaster! The very person she hates right in her own living room!
Or there is his guy who hates his one-time girlfriend for a hundred and one reasons. He has decided, “For me, such a person never existed.” One day he is on the verandah of a café and opens a magazine. On page three is a feature article and when he sees the byline the world spins. It is her! A girl who used to ask his help to write simple application letters now a writer with her own byline! You can’t help admiring the ‘block’ Facebook feature!
So naming long lost people could be like stepping on quicksand. By the time you realize you’re sinking, you’re already neck-deep. Say there is this girl Tsedale, you knew from the previous village you lived in. Tsedale, that work of pure nature everyone was chasing, with you second from last. After some two decades you bump into her at one place or another. You just can’t hold tame your emotions. “Tsedale! What a surprise!” You draw closer for that soft, but still solid embrace. Poor you, the only thing you’ll get is the slightest brush of her cheek and a hasty, “See you around.”
“Did I say something wrong?” Yes you did; who the hell do you think you are to call her “Tsedale.”
“Whom was I supposed to call her, Marline Monroe?
That’s the dumbest question you could ask. You should at least call her some name the spellchecker recognizes!
She has changed her name.
Why’d she do that?”
There are times you vaguely recognize the face and yet forget the name.
“So you have forgotten me; don’t you remember Mark Anthony?”
And you almost mistook him for Julius Caesar! Ha!
Sorry, I’ve to live; over there is a guy I saw when Arsenal last took the Premier League Cup.
“Hello, Jason Bourne! You son of a gun!”
I hope I didn’t get that wrong, too!
Ethiopian Herald Friday 3 January 2020
