Love needs words!
The last class I taught graduating set of 2019 was International Terrorism. Usually, I try to keep a clear boundary between personal and professional, even though it can be difficult. But one day, I thought about hosting the class in an evening talk, I had planned to tag an evening of "Learning, Love and Laughter". My goal was to allow these final year students to sit together to reminiscence on their time together. Part of my suggestions was for students to write an anonymous note to any class member telling them what they admire most, what they learned from them, and what they will miss most about each other. I also pleaded that no one should write to people in their cliques. I wanted to do this because I knew that classmates can be so much into bickering about who was the lecturer's favourite, who was hiding lecture note that was not hidden in the first place, and who kept the class longer by asking the question because they were trying to get a PhD from a BA programme and all the classmate's palaver.
Days after I had shared what I hoped we do, the class rep, Seyi Rahman, brought loads of papers to my office of what people had written about each other. Yes, the recipient's name was indicated, but the writer is anonymous except they wanted to be known. It wasn't long after I had given my suggestion that the storm rose against someone I adore, and I could not continue with the event. When I was cleaning my house in 2020, I saw the bulk of papers and decided to read through some, and I was in tears. How could you love someone so much from a distance and never let them know? Maybe because as my one time BFF pointed out, I am very effusive with praise. I have heard the saying for so long that love is a verb. But I also think love is a word. It is a language, sentences, breathing, sight and sighing weaved together in tone or sound that is unique to you. Most importantly, it is said that you need even to know people's love language to know what verb to speak or do.
Years ago, I read Gary Chapman's book Five Love languages. I gave it as a gift to countless people. I was raised by love. A deeply loving father and mother that did not live too long but what they inscribed in me lives on. I am a helpless romantic. More so, as I see how people I love slipped from me. I told someone there is nothing I write about my sister here that would be surprising for her and those who followed me on WhatsApp when I used to be active. I think my love for words has expression of love grew more one day as I pondered about my parent, most especially my father. He expressed love in the language of his time and beyond. He will say things like "Omo mi atata"............(his words are sacred; I will stop here).
One day PoP said that the Judaistic tradition not only allows the parent to speak to their children as a way to impact blessing, transfer inheritance and predict the future. Words were also an expression of love. Months after my sister-mum passed, I came online one day on Instagram and saw over 200 friend requests. Part of it was my sister-mum. We are friends on Facebook and WhatsApp, but I never knew she sent me a request to follow me on Instagram. Scrolling through her page, I saw the picture below, dated 2018 the day I defended my PhD. Before now, I used to reread my chat with her when I had the mental and emotional strength to do so. Love matter. We may not express love similarly but never let people in your life be in doubt. Do love as a verb and also as word.
Happy Sunday from the womb, that love!
Posted on Facebook on May 22, 2022
