Friday, July 15, 2005


Playing the Game

The other night my mother and I watched a documentary about how counterfeit drugs are being smuggled into Nigeria and sold to poor people. The reporter interviewed a woman whose daughter had taken counterfeit drugs and died. The reporter also interviewed manufacturers of these drugs.

My mother was outraged, and understandably so, as she takes tablets and believes in their effectiveness. I don't have those beliefs. There was nothing for me to get angry or upset about. My mother at least knows my beliefs so she doesn't expect me to get worked up about it. But what if it was someone else? How do I have discussions about this topic when you live in different worlds? People don't appreciate it when you dismiss their beliefs as unreal. I can either pretend to empathise or be stumped.

Earlier this morning while waiting for a bus I heard two women speaking about the weather, the British favourite pastime.

"It's a lot cooler than it was yesterday, isn't it?" she said to me.
"Yeah, it's a lot cooler."
"But you don't mind the heat, do you?" she said.

I knew she was implying that because of the colour of my skin, I should like the heat or be immune to it.

"Not everyone likes the heat you know," I said. "When I lived in Africa, there were many Africans who sat in the shade. Only the Europeans used to love roasting in the sun."
"Yes one presumes that because of your skin colour you would like the heat," the woman said.
"Yes. It will be nice though if the weather would stay like this all the time," I said.
"That would be boring. It's nice to have different seasons like winter, autumn and spring," she said.

Our bus arrived and we went our separate ways.

Now that is a typical example of a dream dialogue on my part when I play the game while not believing in a word I've said. I know that I am having an experience as a black, human female but I know I am not human. However, I have no intention of imposing my belief on others. I just play the game; it's harmless fun.

There are many ways of playing the game. I dress up, I wear make-up, I eat, I sleep, I work, I fancy blokes, I watch television, I meet people, I read the news, I have a laugh etc, but I know I am only playing.

It's not up to me to tell people what to believe. People are free to read meanings into what I write, see me as black, female, attractive or whatever.

I know that I am not my experiences. I am Being.

I am being Enocia but not Enocia

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