A theme of the age, at least in the developed world, is that people crave silence and can find none. The roar of traffic, the ceaseless beep of phones, digital announcements in buses and trains, TV sets blaring even in empty offices, are an endless battery and distraction. The human race is exhausting itself with noise and longs for its opposite—whether in the wilds, on the wide ocean or in some retreat dedicated to stillness and concentration. Alain Corbin, a history professor, writes from his refuge in the Sorbonne, and Erling Kagge, a Norwegian explorer, from his memories of the wastes of Antarctica, where both have tried to escape.
And yet, as Mr Corbin points out in "A History of Silence", there is probably no more noise than there used to be. Before pneumatic tyres, city streets were full of the deafening clang of metal-rimmed wheels and horseshoes on stone. Before voluntary isolation on mobile phones, buses and trains rang with conversation. Newspaper-sellers did not leave their wares in a mute pile, but advertised them at top volume, as did vendors of cherries, violets and fresh mackerel. The theatre and the opera were a chaos of huzzahs and barracking. Even in the countryside, peasants sang as they drudged. They don’t sing now.
What has changed is not so much the level of noise, which previous centuries also complained about, but the level of distraction, which occupies the space that silence might invade. There looms another paradox, because when it does invade—in the depths of a pine forest, in the naked desert, in a suddenly vacated room—it often proves unnerving rather than welcome. Dread creeps in; the ear instinctively fastens on anything, whether fire-hiss or bird call or susurrus of leaves, that will save it from this unknown emptiness. People want silence, but not that much. | Kwa kiasi Fulani katika nchi zilizoendelea watu wana shauku ya kuwepo ukimya ambayo ni kauli mbiu ya muda mrefu lakini haupo. Mingurumo ya magari na watu, miito ya simu isiyoisha, matangazo yanayotolewa kwa njia ya kidijitali katika mabasi na garimoshi, pia sauti zinazopiga kelele za seti za televisheni katika maofisi matupu ni vitu vinavyotumika kufanya fujo na vurugu. Binadamu wanajichosha wenyewe kwa makelele kitu ambacho ni kinyume katika sehemu za mwituni, baharini au katika baadhi ya sehemu zilizohamwa na kutengwa kwa ajili ya utulivu na umakinifu. Profesa wa historia, Alain Corbin ameandika kuhusu kukimbilia kwake Sorbonne na kuhusu Erling Kagge ambaye ni raia wa Norway na mtafiti juu ya kumbukumbu zao za Antarctica ambako wote walijaribu kupakimbia. Kama ambavyo bwana Corbin ameeleza katika “Historia ya Ukimya”, inawezekana hakuna makelele zaidi kama ilivyokuwa. Kabla ya kuwepo matairi ya kujazwa upepo, mitaa ya mijini ilikuwa imejaa matairi ya vyuma na kwato za chuma za wanyama. Kabla ya utengaji wa hiari wa simu za mkononi, mabasi na garimoshi yalikuwa yakigubikwa na mazungumzo. Wauzaji wa magazeti hawakuziacha sehemu zao za biashara katika hali ya ukimya bali walizitangaza kwa sauti kubwa kama wafanyavyo wauzaji wa cheri, urujuani na samaki jamii ya bangala. Sehemu hizo ilikuwa imejaa makelele. Pia sehemu za vijijini, wakulima waliimba kama wafanyavyo watumishi wa nyumbani. Hivi sasa hawaimbi. Hivi sasa kilichobadilika siyo kiasi kingi cha kelele ambazo katika karne za nyuma zilikuwa zikilalamikiwa bali ni kiasi cha vurugu ambazo zimetawala katika sehemu ambazo zilitakiwa kuwa na utulivu. Kuna sura nyingine inaonekana kukinzana, kwa sababu hali hiyo inapokuwepo katika msitu mkubwa, jangwa kubwa, katika chumba ambacho kimehamwa ghafla mara nyingi inathibitisha usumbufu badala ya kufurahiwa. Hofu inatawala, masikio yanaathiriwa na vitu mbali mbali, ima mlipuko wa moto au mlio wa ndege au mtikisiko wa majani, hali hiyo itasaidiwa na hali ya ukimya. Watu wanahitaji ukimya ila siyo kwa kiwango hicho. |