From sausages to SA politics: The perils of miscommunication

'There are sausages in the fridge. Cook a few for dinner.' And then the wife added symbols that made no sense: '<3'


There’s a place in my head where I prefer to live, because real life can be too complicated at times. I call it Dirkland.

Everyone there likes me. But more importantly, everyone understands what I mean.
None of those damned misunderstandings we are traumatised by day in and day out. I know I am to blame for some of the misunderstandings that litter my life.

I sometimes battle to express myself clearly. But it’s also true that an understanding person only needs half a word. I often provide that half of a clear message, but the good understanding remains lacking.
The opposite is also true.

The people around me are well aware I don’t have much of an understanding. If understanding was a cold drink, my version would have been called Diet Understanding.

Understanding Lite. The margarine of understandings, complete with the little heart logo. Yet they bombard me with incomplete messages. Like the one the lovely Snapdragon sent to me a while ago.

“There are sausages in the fridge. Cook a few for dinner.” And then she added symbols that made no sense: “<3”.
So I cooked two sausages. “Why did you only cook two sausages,” an angry Snapdragon asked me.
“You said I should make less than three,” I replied. “Two is most certainly less than three.”
“It’s a heart, you idiot!” she said.

“How on earth should I have known it?” I asked her. “I don’t say you don’t have a heart, but you hide it well. In my defence, it’s not the first organ I associate with you. Almost like ears. You don’t have any of those at all.”

I was wrong. She had sufficient ears to hear my remark clearly. I didn’t get a sausage that evening.
And she doesn’t send me any more of those silly hearts. Which is probably a blessing.

The same kind of confusion reigns all around me. Politicians spread ambiguous messages.
So does my mother, my colleagues…
“Can I have your licence?” The security officer at a complex gate asked me the other day.
“Certainly not!” I replied. “It’s a nightmare to replace those. But you can look at it.”
Instead, he looked at me strangely.
That doesn’t happen in Dirkland. No confusion at all. I think I should move there.

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