Sometimes people should learn to listen. Listening is a skill but most people are ignorant of this. Bigboy and Welly were not giving each other the chance to talk.
*You are a liar, why should I listen to you?” That was Bigboy. His voice was raised high. I was waiting to get my turn for a haircut. Ahead of me was Bigboy and another guy who was wearing a white T-shirt inscripted on the front with the words Dirty Dozen.
Never be fooled by his name, Bigboy was of limited perpendicular height and was just getting on the wrong side of thirty years.
I never really got to know what this was all about as I had arrived later than the others but what must have started as a simple conversation was now blowing out of proportion. Welly, the barber never gave fleas the chance to land on his lips. He talked.
Maybe it was because he met a great deal with all kinds of people who came for haircuts. And as always when guys go for a haircut, there is too much loose talk. The topics touched on soccer, politics, religion, social and current news.
Welly knew everything and he never wanted to give anyone a chance to talk, a big flaw in his character. I always found this irritating but I always kept coming for a haircut. He was a good barber who did magical things with his deft fingers and always cut your hair to the size and style you wanted.
So, a long time ago I had made up my mind that for as long as I was getting value for my money, the rest was inconsequential. Welly would always talk and pay scant attention to others and their opinions.
Bigboy was a bone collector in our neighbourhood. One day I will talk more about his trade, but in brief he moved around the streets driving his old Mazda B18 pick-up truck on certain days collecting dry bones. Yes, collecting bones. I always thought that after gnawing all the flesh from the bone, it would have no further use.
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The bones we throw away after our meals thinking they are garbage somehow found their way into the hands of Bigboy and he made a pile of cash from them.
His payments were in kind. His major clients were mostly children and he would give them sweets based on the number of bones. Sometimes he used an old spring scale which I had strong doubts about.
He had a loud hailer where he would shout “Sweets for bones! Sweets for bones! Sweets for bones!”
The children had long given him his befitting nickname, Sweets for Bones or simply Mabhonzo. Once they spotted his truck in the streets they would shout “Sweets for bones is here.”
The children loved him. He rarely disappointed them. The great mystery was no one ever got to know about his market for the bones. Wherever he sold the bones, it gave him a means for survival.
It was a win-win situation. The children got their sweets, Bigboy got bones. After all the bones would have been thrown away.
The silent sufferers in all this transaction were the dogs as the daily supply of the bones dwindled and the dogs had to forage even harder in the bins and if they were lucky enough, they would stumble upon a bone once in while.
Both Welly and Bigboy were trying to talk at the same time. Out of frustration, Bigboy walked away without getting a haircut. But I knew that once his temper had cooled down, he would come back.
All the while, I kept my peace. I was never one for talking much unless necessary. I liked listening. Give it a try.
In case one is not aware, in philosophy, listening is considered as a form of wisdom and knowledge . Listening can develop critical thinking. It also promotes peace, tolerance and dialogue.
The senseless argument between Bigboy and Welly made me think that listening is a skill that we should all embrace for the good of mankind.
Onie Ndoro is a an IELTS tutor, ghostwriter and storyteller. For feedback: X@Onie90396982/email:[email protected] 0773007173
