Sunday Morning ~ Being Bullied
Bisani matenda, maliro tidzamva. ~ You can hide the sickness, but we will find out at the burial.
~ Chewa proverb
October 4, 2020
I’d been wondering what the October surprise would be, fearing a new armed conflict somewhere, though the month is still young. Gotta admit, this wasn’t on my list, considering the literal and figurative bubble he keeps himself wrapped in. I didn’t believe it when I first heard. I figured it was some meat thrown to the media to get their focus off the house of cards falling around him. I thought I’d believe it when he’s dead. I imagined him spewing fantasy about a remarkable comeback, stating from first-hand experience that it’s not that bad. Expecting some kind of national sympathetic rallying. Gag me. But, considering the evidence, I now believe he’s sick and more than just mentally. At least that part of this spectacle is true. How severe his condition, who knows? When we’ve been lied to this much it astounds me that anyone believes anything. My appreciation of investigative journalism has reached new heights. I’ve lived with liars. I long ago adopted an I’ll-believe-it-when-I-see-it attitude.
Tuesday’s debate seems ages ago. I was laughing at first, the absurdity and insanity were straight out of an SNL skit. How do you even parody this stuff? Then I started feeling scared and ran to the cabinet for a shot of whiskey. The bully. The mean aggressive abuser. It became traumatic to watch, though, I couldn’t tear myself away. Chris Wallace reminded me of an abused wife begging him to stop, uselessly telling him he’d get what he wanted. I went into one of my childhood fantasies imagining the abuser in a glass cage, raging away but unable to get out. We could be safe. The beast would be contained, petted occasionally by his keepers, fed, watched. Studied.
I looked for proverbs having to do with bullying but couldn’t find one so searched for ones relating to sickness and this is the only one I could find. I wish I could sit and talk with a Malawian to give me context. I miss the long rides where I could ask the driver to explain such things as he understood them. I love how they relate these proverbs to everyday life. This one has to do with truth obviously, but hearing them describe how to use them in conversation is a rich experience. I miss listening to their wisdom. I miss listening to them put their worries into God’s hands. I’d love to ask them how they deal with bullies.
When I was in sixth grade I was ambushed walking home by three boys, about my size. One pushed me from behind and two stood in front of me. It’s funny now as I think of it, I don’t remember being scared, only angry. I gave them a look of rage, which, apparently scared them and they started to run. I chased them, jumped on one of them from behind, knocked him down, and started wailing on his back with his face in the snow. “You want to beat me up?” I yelled as I beat him in the back. He didn’t even try to fight back, which, as I look back on it now, is pretty sad. He may have been put up to it. The others took off leaving this kid to take my beating. I got up to walk home, filling his hat with snow and throwing it at him as a parting shot. I never told anyone, never was bothered by them again, never felt bad about it. In fact, I felt good. Now that I think of it, they could have really hurt me if that was their intention, but it was probably just an attempt at bullying. If it had happened in the schoolyard I may have acted differently but there was no one else around. If people could have analyzed and judged my reaction I may have been the one punished for overreacting or being violent, or being “just as bad”. Funny, I never felt that way.
Love to all,