We live in the world of information, where we can’t do without information, can’t avoid information, made better by information and or ruined by information.
To deal with something you can’t avoid learning to ignore what must be ignored quick and take what you must take in. Also, consider it the very much available information, the words people say about you when they say something about you face to face or first person to first person.
01May2021-Sat-11:45hrs. Mom called me into the kitchen hut and asked to settle for my first meal of the day as I seemed to have forgotten that I needed to eat while working in the garden in a very manual offensive, I, myself, having spent four of my hours between 10 pm and 5 am writing. I entered the kitchen hut where upon entering I was savaged with not-so-good words by mom’s friend (ten years older and once her labourer in the past, then now financially sound than her) my mom was having some good time with, her friend being a woman whose grownups assisted me with the USD100 (interest-free loan [my mom had to pay it back]) which my Informativus blog and my fish farming business got parts of their baby steps from. She helped a lot, confronted her sons with the words of how much I desperately needed that USD100 and said to them she was not going to leave ‘their home’ without it.
I consider Bantu as one big language with sub-languages and sub-languages housing their own sub-languages and sub-languages of sub-languages having their own dialects.
Mine and her fall into one specific sub-group which includes (Barwe, Manyika, and the greater Shona) among Bantu languages. So, speaking in one sub-language of another sub-language (Manyika>Manyika of Shona) and her speaking in her own (a sub-language of Barwe) we can not only understand each other but express each other very deeply linguistically, without any need of killing parts of our languages that are not popular to both (only it takes some getting used to the way both of us speaks). Deriving it all from the word rombe, which she used, which would translate to a social outcast, one or ‘soul’ where ‘bad lucks’ are thrown in, such that materially the physical being housing that soul can not get to possess anything, she said something that would translate to, “Son, you don’t have to be in the garden after receiving the best education, it’s for the outcasts in the family”.
Rombe is a very spiritistic word which found its usage, where in many cases it shouldn’t, as moderation for ‘bad omened’ etc. She didn’t put in her linguistic fabric or sentences such words like mwanangu (my child, also used metaphorically) or its other variants but her voice was that of a parent or someone with the authority over me, that I as its target could not refuse or could not have any barriers to disconnect it from what’s a piece of advice.
After mom joined her in her assail arguing that I was taking a wrong direction, I calmly fired back like a son back with one of those lines running my mentality and, in other words, my seeing mind: “A salary when its fifty, its fifty. A profit or an outcome of a self-adventure when its zero you can work and think more, and you are free to, to get it to ten when zero is nothing to you, then from ten to two-hundred.
I motivated myself as I walked out of this stand-off, with a plate in my right palm filled with some thick porridge and a perfectly-cooked red-eye labeo fish, smocked beforehand, that one day I would be saying to my mom’s friend that I was not choosing a wrong path back then as an individual, and that, admitting my win, she would be saying, kusaziwa which would translate to, “I didn’t know.” Yeah, that herself did not know that if my starting in a garden after my coming from the university was the good path.
Here in this entry, I am not saying my path was right, but it was my choice, one to keep me happy in this life, and it was not bad. I was even happier earning zero dollars in that garden, but also hoping to change the odds and become someone in my future without the salary, than being a doctor at a government hospital at the same time, being as just my parents and friends wished. But there was a piece of advice. A piece of advice comes from experts and it is expected to have ten times the impact a suggestion could have.
Sometime we take seriously words from people who are not aware of the path we are attempting. To keep our patience glowing so that we may fare well in that path we shouldn’t. Because people can’t help but to have a word to say and say it confident enough as if they are right. They also say something without being right, without the information with which to claim or base their rightness.
Avoid a disaster don’t avoid people. Avoid toxic information, and way of seeing things that is against your path if you have nothing but great faith on your journey.
My mom’s friend wasn’t my enemy, she was the greatest helper in my life. It was her way of things that was not tally with what I intended to be. While two things in us tussled in the background, we both tolerated each other, had to work fine with each other. That created peace between us, and ensured that one generation (mine and me) could become successful through the help from the other (hers and her). What determined my success as a result of her helping hand was only a matter of how I took that help, analyse it only to have it or discard it. She helped financially. When in need of some advice I was with no choice but to put someone in that slot.
Her saying that I was becoming an ‘outcast’ was some sort of help. She was giving an advice, to have me quit my path and return to the right one. That advice even after she followed it with how she wanted to negotiate for me a better place at her son’s home in the town, her arguing that a town is a place for the educated like me, and the garden, where I was getting lost, was for people like her was not correct to my wrong path. I wanted not a place in the town. lt was I who only knew that my business plans wanted that cheaper rural land, to start my fish farming company, a peaceful rural home with electricity to build my blog, Informativus, instead of a crammed high-density corner of the city with a population density of over 10,000 on some forty-five square kilometres.
Low costs living the life, more money left, more meaningful business done, more money made and given away.
This is SubjectMe Impact.
This is impact from SubjectMe
In the darkest moments of my life, I open up my diary which is greatly digital now, and read for solutions. My diary is quite a big one, and I had to find means to share its little scraps with you.
The Impact edition of Socien’s personal diary shorten things for anyone without the need to read the full version of the diary, SubjectMe. You are never alone in the extremes, and you, me, him, her, can find a way out.
More motivational SubjectMe Impact entries
I caught a fish. My personal record, the biggest of its type I have ever seen coming out of our river. Stating why I couldn’t quite end up with it I picked a motivational offence.
Of all the things that determine an outcome, that should make us super afraid when any outcomes of our undertakings are about to be spelled out time is big decider. We don’t quite have our hands over it, all this resulting in an approach which says the sooner the better so than we can have something better tangible sooner.