Friday, May 27, 2011

An 'old' soul...

As a young girl I enjoyed talking to people older than myself. They seemed to have a better outlook on life (and not some painful obsession with measuring boobs...O.o) than what most of my peers did, and just being in their presence made me feel like I mattered and perhaps was not some 'weird' chick who just did not fit in.

I used to spend more time with my childhood friend's grandfather than what I would with her, and the fact that we did not understand each other so much made it an even harder task to communicate, especially because my English had not been fully developed at the time and I struggled to find words, almost causing people to fall asleep as I carelessly searched for the right ones.

Anyway....

My attempts to communicate were a 'comedy' as he would always nod, pretending he understood everything, although the language it was required of me to speak in was Yoruba.  Each time I would come over to my friend's house with a better 'idea' of how I should communicate with him; I bet my friend was getting pretty fed up of me gawking at him in awe whenever he opened his mouth to speak. I felt each word counted, that each word was a word of wisdom from an elder.

I would always laugh whenever he would knock his head on the same lowered lamp in my friend's room each time he came in. He was quite a tall man and always forgot that the ceiling lamp was hanging pretty low.

Once I even tried to explain to him why I was so afraid of bees (which is not a pleasant story) and again he would nod, pretending to understand whilst my friend kept rolling her eyes in annoyance over the fact that I even bothered trying to explain when it was clear that he did not understand me. I was very heartbroken once I heard about his passing.


I looked upon people my age as foolish and childish and would much rather sit in the company of elderly people, listening to what they had to say about certain matters and issues of life. I enjoyed listening to grown men speak about politics although I had no understanding of it, and I would secretly laugh to myself whenever they said funny things, even though they would always look over at me with concerned expressions, probably wondering why I was sitting in a corner close to them laughing to myself when I could be outside playing with my peers.

As a child I hated being dragged to 'African' parties as I was always the odd one out; I would try my hardest not to 'disgrace' my parents and fit in with the rest of the kids, but it was a useless attempt as they would always find me odd anyway. (You know like one of those kids who tries to say something funny to a whole bunch of other kids and there is this huge 'silence' and the presence of invisible (and depressing) 'cricket noises' in the background?...The worst thing is if you are laughing to yourself thinking the joke you cracked is the funniest in the world.) In England I was deemed 'the odd Norwegian girl' and in Norway.... well... just 'odd'/'weird' or their favourite 'freak'.

On family gatherings I would sit quietly for myself, usually always in a corner, reading a book and float away to my own world. Most of my life was spent in those books and in school my teachers would always contact my parents explaining that I had been 'dreaming again'.

I learned to embrace my oddity as a gift from heaven, it was the only way I found myself enjoying to write, enjoying and appreciating the small things of the world. My mother was always thankful that I never really demanded much as a child, and funny enough as it is, although my greatest wish used to be receiving a laptop for my birthday, I would always jump with the excitement of being able to choose whatever books I liked for my birthday each year. I still have a whole collection of them at home: Princess Diaries, Gossip Girl (always wondering what it would be like to be an 'elite' teen) and 'A thousand pieces' (a Danish book series. I was absolutely drawn to them from the first moment I read them).

Well, I won't even go on as I can see that the 'daylight' has arrived. The only reason I am perhaps writing is because I am overjoyed by the fact that I had my last exam today and that I am basically 'finished' with this semester at University. I guess I can start looking forward to next year.