I longer set a lot of store by social media because, like most things, the fascination becomes jaded through familiarity. We know the old adage that “familiarity breeds contempt”.
That eventually, and sardonically, morphed into “familiarity breeds”. Nowadays, we are left with the reality of Fomo, which, for the uninitiated, stands for “fear of missing out”, a condition that obtains because of the insidious manner in which social media has invaded, colonised and completely taken over our lives.
Staying in this area, I am not that dumb to imagine that the cellphone, arch role-player in the social media stakes, is of no import. It’s just that I become less and less enamoured of its insidious wiles. But now and again it gives my angling mind a surprising little bite which, in turn, might turn into an interesting little diversion from the dour news that makes up our daily read.
So I still wake up reaching for the phone, although I try to delete those text messages that are clearly automatic sends, like “Have a nice (fill in the missing word) day”. There are so many of them: Writer’s Day, Friendship Day, Double-barrel Surname Day and so forth, stopping just this side of Doris Day.
We search for freshness to break the litany of despair provided by life in the Republic of South Africa. I cannot reconcile myself to the notion of load shedding as a semi-permanent fact of life. I shudder at the possibility for tragedy, having just spoken to my old friend George Willenberg. At 80-plus, he and his wife live alone. This not a bad thing, but if anything unwanted (Lord forbid) should happen to them, they would be in really dire straits.
Immediately I hear the sharp readers (all seven of them) shout: “You just contradicted yourself, because that is precisely what makes the cellphone so essential.” Not so.
We make the cellphone essential because we are unable to activate Plans B, C, D, E and all the other possibilities that have been stultified by the hideous addiction to this mewling thingy that demands to be recharged regularly, like a nursing child.
My defence is like my response to a clip where an orator beleaguers people who, he says, are targeted by robbers who will take your material wealth. Ironically, he reminds us that elections are a bizarre reversal of this social phenomenon, because we actually elect those who are going to rob us of everything, including our health, home and happiness.
In other words, we need to sharpen our discretionary skills and tap into these notions. Robbers pick you to rob you. You elect a government to rob you. An ex-student of mine who now resides in Canada wrote a WhatsApp message telling me: “Mr T, you say the snow looks attractive. Well, let me tell you: snow is beautiful until it isn’t.”
And right there I learnt a life lesson. Maybe some things are beautiful at first sight. But beauty, like enthusiasm and faith, pale with the passing of time. Like reading the drivel I churn out weekly (weakly) in the hopeless attempt to give a reason to smile.
So let me give you my pennyfarthings’ worth of column for this week. Everything is beautiful at the start. Life causes appetites to pall and fade, but we can renew by redefining the way we deal with the over-familiar. It’s a process of renewal where we tap into what takes our fancy, but not to the point of satiation, or blind dependency or addiction.
And right there is the underlying message that prompted this little piece of nonsense. The ANC, like the cellphone, has its use and usefulness. But we have become so blind to the lie that it is irreplaceable or totally essential to the quality of our lives. As we upgrade our phones, and seek more diversion or renewal, so we know what to do with this useless lot who have outlived their usefulness.
Snow is beautiful, until it no longer is.
* Alex Tabisher.
** The views expressed here are not necessarily those of Independent Media.
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