Hurriedly, Isabel storms up the stairs and swiftly passes the hallway, through the door, and into her house.
“Who knows what is up with her lately? Nobody knows?”—the first plurality of the neighbour murmurs.
The last plurality attempts a weak session of gossip that begins like this:
“Mohlomong-O-bua ka pelo(Yah, English can’t really describe this one. But let’s go with ‘Maybe she’s having a hearty conversation’),
hotseba mang? (who knows!)”
Despite its importance amongst Basotho, the concept ya ho bua ka pelo can’t be expressed efficiently enough in English. Or perhaps my command of this language is not where it could be!
But I will try anyway.
Their gossip quickly subsided, and they stared forward(as they always do) and continued their other conversation.
That issue has plagued this region, this dynamism of youth living close to each other, yet deriving from vastly different grounds.
It’s the micro complexity that will soon evolve into a rendition that highlights the ideology of the whole complex.
Grounds that led to the neighbours stumbling upon frantic curtains one night and assuming that the anomaly(neighbour) must be engaging in warfare – as one would expect from those with a vague interest in their neighbours.
Meanwhile, the neighbour was indeed engaging in warfare against a fever.
“The little brunt does not even dare to reach out to anyone”, – she notes as the flu takes over.
But, as is with the expansion of the world, the flu walks away in a few days, and she is back to normal.
We should assume that Isabel is undoubtedly an introvert, whilst the others are more extroverted.
Bunker!
The conceptualisation of an introvert, mhmm, let me see!
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Usually sheltered? Strong imagination? If you don’t spend time around people, surely you invent some?
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Patient? I mean, if there aren’t people all pulling your attention, what else would? [unless the internet does, in any case, shame!]
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Perhaps that explains her proclivity for lying near the wall whilst watching television to hear both the TV and the mumbles of next-door neighbours.
The creature that feeds on all this information is called imagination. It gathers all this data and creates stories to replay during one of your many starry nights.
It’s an addition designed solely for you as an introvert, and it resurrects daily through marvellous imagery and rich sleep.
“Maybe you’re generally not a people person, but woman, what you do gets creepy.” – Her mind continued along that trajectory.
Today, many little stories have been amassed from all the souls with whom you’ve crossed paths. But is this a worthy life for you?
The neighbours are having a fire on the other side of the three.
Darn, from one side, it seems so unfair, all alone, whilst the rest are having what appears to be fun.
Welcome to the idea of separateness, where two worlds are as far as one.
The balance of the two forces(households) completes a neighbourhood that works, with bits of tyranny occasionally. Progressive micro tyranny!
As for the extroverts, time in the suburbs gives them a much-needed reprieve from their homeland, the land of socialites.
Hence, they may comply with the largely introverted lenient rules of the estate, but they will occasionally show you who they are.
It is entirely up to them whether it’s loud music or fun.
The introverts now have to work hard to piece this together. From sleep apnea to irritation to wonder. Introverts will go from anger to pure wonder about what the extroverts are doing. That’s if they haven’t summed up the will to complain to the community landlord.
The extrovert will inadvertently give introverts stories occasionally that rewire the space of their image-enthused mind.
And the introverts will keep reflecting the extrovertedness of extroverts.
Bye.
