The popular saying “He who knows not, but knows that he knows not is wise” comes to mind when i comtmplate the current trend of seeking the uknown. Excitement and adventure seems directly linked to the degree of discovery,and the risk of danger or failure. Many go to great lengths to peer into corners of cration yet unknown. The irony is the growing trend of eschewing discovery and longing for the rare surprises in today’s world. This is evident in young couples declining the oppotunity to know the sex of their unborn, people choosing to become Luddites cut the cable, cord and whatever else tethers them to the grid. Alas, this is most evident in the nationalist, xenophobic outlook of many. Not knowing, for all its virtues also hides its other face, – disconnection.
I’m sure this is the point many click along to the next blog or news bulletin, but hang-on, these thought are far from political:
Many know the burden of wonder that come with pondering how one came to be at a particular place or time. Deprived of the stories of ancestors and stewards of culture, language, and memories, compulsions one is left walking in circles trying to piece together the grand puzzles albeit with pieces withheld. We reinvent ourselves ignoring the voices that beg the question who really am I?
The African Americans come to mind as one such group, few are lucky enough to have that thread intact, the thread that anchors one’s identity, to a place, a time a people… others, not as lucky.
I am from the Okwarazorumba family, in Nkwerre, Imo state, Nigeria, West Aftrica. My family can be traced back to the founder who rowed his iroko canoe to the banks of Iyi Bekeh (whiteman river) and set up an enclave. He had 4 sons who make up the 4 indiginous villages one from which i hail. Through my travels in life, I have never had to wrestle with my identity, who I am or where i come from. Listening to extended family (my wife is white) talk about DNA testing and mapping out the rest of the family tree, like most native Africans, I scoffed and with no small measure of arrogance said “Well I’m glad i dont need that, I know where I’m from”. I was however challenged with – what if you did a DNA test and the results don’t line up with the stories told?
The grand quandary – Would i want to know that?
I have been venturing into telemark skiing lately. For a pretty decent alpine skier, grasping the new concepts; dynamic balance, weighting, edge control and the likes has really highlighted The things I do not know. Knowing seems pretty hard especially when not augmented by passion, knowledge builds passion and can only be attained as the fruits of a willingness to wonder a willingness to know.
There is much value in knowing, I suppose the same goes for not wanting to know? Some say ignorance is bliss: he who knows not and knows that he knows not is not ignorant, he is wise.
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