One would be sure I cannot speak. One would be sure I am a dumb adult whose body has trapped a child from within. This might be true, I do not know.
I was born in the Open Grounds, on the red soil about 35 km away from the Indian Ocean. A small township along the Garden Route in Algoa Bay. I currently reside at a clay soil in the farms of the Open Grounds, a part of the township that was developed late in the years, at least 5-10 km from the Indian ocean. The only township I’ve ever seen being patrolled by albatross sea birds.
My view of the world sometimes torments me, however sometimes comforts me. I usually say, if my heart was around my chest — the verbal shots fired daily to my direction would have destroyed me by now. But my heart is somewhere far away from my body. Locked in the passions of my beliefs along the radius of my energetic fields.
My speech impediments has earned me a great deal of abuse, bullying and victimization by various types of people in my community.
Today I am likened to a soft baby boy who is trapped in a man’s body. I cannot think of a vilifying word or name I haven’t been called since I was born. Along the years these words don’t even mean anything anymore.
Most people would be sure I do not understand them/hear or pick up things they say whether they mean good or bad to me. I, most of the time usually understand only the meaning of what is being said than the words themselves. I was conceived by people who speak mixed languages to a point that even I, my way of expressing myself is usually a mix of at least 3 languages. This also causes a lot of confusion for people who try to speak to me. I’ve heared church leaders whom, would probably be trying to understand what type of a person I am in order for them to help find me a group I can swiftly fit in. Some would think I am manipulative or never want to speak direct or vivid. This in itself is very painful to experience. Sometimes I comfort myself by saying, I am probably a smart genius if a church leader or a group leader of a certain fraternity could think I am manipulative. One guy who has spent at least 6 months talking to me, trying to figure out how do I function. When he asks certain things, he would often tell me I am evading the questions or use word play to avoid answering things the way he wants to hear them.
I must admit, I am actually very exhausted in explaining myself and I’m heart broken, that in these crucial times where one needs a community/connection to survive the hard life of the township economy. Where Drugs, Alcohol, Violence and Abuse of the weak rule the streets. Where people without fraternity cannot even get the most basic jobs.
My severe stuttering is also the most painful thing one can ever go through in the township. The township economy is designed in such a way that soft people become the target for all sorts of abuse from the old and the young. Even worse those that are loners with no group(s) to associate themselves with.
I have spent majority of my time wondering near and far from my birth place. I’ve wondered to places where people would say I could be lost, I am still grateful today that though I may have lost parts of me, my mementos and split bits of myself. I still managed to find my way back home.
I have memories written all over the 1000s of poems and short stories I have written along the years. Memories of my beautiful family treating me like I am unaware of either my surroundings or the things that they speak about. I am slow in processing things, thence a slow learner — one could argue that. I am also very fast in adapting to environments with an agile personality.
I’ve always wondered why or how do I get to know certain things that were never explained to me. Things that I can or may never utter to protect the privacy of the soul realities that surround me.
I still believe that most animals can speak like we do.
Recently, I was wondering alone along the beach. I met a young lady walking her dog; since I love animals or shall I say everything and everything in nature. We had a chat about her dog, the conversation went on to a point we spake about religion and spirituality. As a born bored loner who comes from what was used to be a big family with no order or “traditional” parental guidance. Along the years I had developed a knack of reading almost everything interesting about science and religion. Especially as someone who is a mathematics enthusiast. I have a strong belief in Faiths and Religions in my own way. I still view science/religion/mathematics as a needle and a thread to reconnect the parts of the soul DNA that scattered across the atmosphere when someone comes out of the womb. Regardless of what religion is or from what region, it never or doesn’t really matter to me. After all religions of the majority depended on what species colonized another species in a particular region to recode the Soul DNA of the born child regardless of their region for a purpose purported by their environment.
This young lady asked me “What do you believe in”. I didn’t quite understand her question. It popped up again, as if I was avoiding the question. She rephrased, “Do you believe in God?” In my personal view this was an open ended question. It depends to people’s perspectives (What is God) or (Who is God). To make it simple for her, I said yes. She asked “What God?” or “Which God?”. As someone who has attended at least 5 different churches while I was at school and attended various different religious gatherings and Faiths. Let alone the poetry sessions, and many other educational youth groups. I didn’t want to complicate her debate urges for discussion. As soft as I am, I had always preferred to simplify things for people. I told her “God: my parents, my mother and father — those that created me”, case closed. The debate urges were cut short, also I should have prolonged the discussion to enjoy the brief connection with another human being for a bit, besides I am usually in need of human connection to avoid addictions. Just that I am sure I was hungry that day, so I simplified the chat back to her dog. I could have chosen the Christian God, or maybe the Muslim God just to see what route would the conversation take.
Some of these experiences make me wonder, why do us human beings think or like to think our language(s) is so important, or our intelligence is so superior for a bit.
Do people actually know that Most Animals can speak like we do? but prefer not to?
I will continue this, so it can be readable while I explain why I think most Animals can speak like we do, just that they prefer not to.
As the saying goes, we do not see things as they are — we see things as we are.
In conclusion: I will also talk about the different types of animal species I had a privilege to play with or own.
My favorite was dextersophiamarco as I called him. One from the forest and one from the ocean.
To be continued…
