I am human. I live in a culture where sound is power. I think in terms of pattern and rhythm, “as set expressions circulating through the mouths and ears of all” (Ong 35). This is how I learn and remember important details of my survival, my comfort, my happiness, my relationships – my life. I hear the pattern of my life and my culture through repeating phrases and lists that chronicle my stories. While some feel that the repetitiveness of my stories are unnecessary, I find perfect comfort in their cadence and melody. I work hard to hear and remember the important stories of my family and of my community. Sometimes I wake in the night, heart pounding, and think that I have forgotten the important lessons of my existence. Then I recall. I think of the warm heat of the sun on the top of my head, the touch of the cool sand under my feet. I smell the smoke, and I am choked by fear and confusion. I close my eyes, and see the movement of the wind. I see its dance and hear the musical arrangement of my thoughts, and then I remember. I will die someday. I know the stories of death. I have seen the dances of mourning. I will miss being alive. |
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