Silence! Some call it a beautiful art. Others say it is a golden sermon. Testy McTesterson says silence can be read like a book: “I read her eyes like paragraphs, and her tears like chapters, for she didn’t have much to say with words, but rather silence. And never let them tell you that silence isn’t beautiful. For silence is what happens when words fall asleep…”
The bible says even a fool who remains silent is considered to be wise. But silence is not merely the absence of sound. Silence does not necessarily occur when noise ceases. Silence can be found in the midst of great noise. Little wonder, Sarah Dessen says “silence is so freaking loud”. Rumi says, “In silence, there is eloquence.” For Adrienne Rich, “lying is done with words, and also with silence.” Robert Stevenson agrees with her that “the cruelest lies are often told in silence”.
I love the way that bearded writer, Norton Juster, puts it: “Have you ever heard the wonderful silence just before the dawn; or the quiet and calm just as a storm ends? Or perhaps you know the silence when you haven’t the answer to a question you’ve been asked, or the hush of a country road at night, or the expectant pause of a room full of people when someone is just about to speak, or, most beautiful of all, the moment after the door closes and you’re alone in the whole house. Each one is different, you know, and all very beautiful if you listen carefully.”
That means silence has its own sound; if you listen carefully. When sound is needed but noise takes over, then there is silence. When politicians talk about the next election instead of the Chibok girls, silence has taken over. Silence occurs when issues of greater concern are replaced with trivial concerns. Silence is heard when both the drummer and the dancer are out of sync.
It was Ralph Waldo Emerson, who said in 1836 that “undoubtedly, we have no questions to ask which is unanswerable”. In other words, every question we propose in our heart, and eventually ask, has an answer. Part of that answer could be silence. I believe him because he was not referring to Nigeria.
This is a country where the usual answer to any question is another question. Silence! I also believe Emerson because he did not say the answer would be provided; but that every question has answer. Emerson then admonishes us to trust the perfection of creation so far as to believe that whatever curiosity the order of things has awakened in our minds, the order of things can satisfy.
More often, recently, in the middle of the night, the question comes to my mind as I reflect on the state of the nation. But I won’t see who to ask and get the required answer. When I close my eyes to sleep, the same question makes appearances, even in my dreams: Where are our girls? No answer still; instead: a long, hurting silence.
As I drive along the lousy, booming early morning traffic in Abuja each day, and see school girls heading in different directions, the question comes back forcefully: where are our girls? Still, no one has been able to give me the required answer or any answer at all. Silence!
As I sit each day in the plenary hall of the on-going national conference in Abuja, watching and listening to what could be regarded as debates, except that they are procedurally off the curve and filled with unnecessary repetitions, the question surfaces again and again.
Where are our girls? You know who I am referring to. However, assuming you’ve just arrived from the outer world, I’m demanding to know the whereabouts of those innocent school girls abducted months ago and taken to hideouts by armed bandits.
What has happened to our girls? Where are they being kept? How are they fed and what are they fed with? A few of them are said to have escaped. We are yet to know how it happened. What about the others?
I hate to imagine what has happened to them. I hate to think about their fate. I hate to be reminded that they could be underground where air and light are luxury items. I hate to think that some of them may be so sick to the point of death. I hate to imagine that some of them may be fully pregnant by now. It hurts to suspect that they may have been married off to strangers across the Arab world where terrorism and early marriage are acceptable occurrences. I hate to imagine that they may have been murdered and their bodies dumped quietly in a shallow mass grave. These are thoughts you do not want your imagination to focus on. But at the same time, you just can’t escape picturing the worst case scenario. Where are these girls?
Shortly after they were captured in the middle of the night, many countries offered military help. I had believed that by now, the combined military might from these countries would have routed the terrorists and brought our girls back. Weeks and months after, nothing has happened. The only action we have seen is silence. The only result we have seen is more silence.
Can somebody please tell me: Where are our girls? What does this silence portend?
