Sans Earphones

A few weeks ago, the right side of my exceptionally wonderful earphones stopped working. Since it is impossible to enjoy a song like Glee’s cover of Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” with only one side working, I considered them dead (a moment of silence for my dear red friend). It has to be all or nothing, right? 

The earphones that died and abandoned me

So now I walk around without said earphones. I know that is very difficult for many of you to picture, but I do it. I run errands take taxis and bodas (car is still being manufactured to my exact specifications – at least I claim so), work, study, watch House of Cards, all without earphones. At first, my ears thanked me. They had been suffering from my diverse and loud (but still modest) music collection. Muse, Theory of a Dead Man, Linkin’ Park, Nickleback (don’t you dare judge me!), P!nk, and Chris Daughtry had all had field days in my ears. Throw in some Maddox Ssematimba, the haunting sounds of Florence and the Machine and Evanescence, Casting Crowns, The Mith, GNL Zamba, and Whitney Houston to mention but a few, and you have a slight idea what the poor things had been enduring. Quietly. They had never complained, except perhaps for the slight ringing whenever someone came to talk to me and the earphones had to be pulled out, albeit very reluctantly.  The ears had served me faithfully, despite the mother’s many warnings that they would soon give up. Then the earphones died. I could feel the ears celebrate. At first.

Less than a day later, it started to sink in. I could not listen to audios sent via WhatsApp in office. I could not listen to Siima in the morning. I could not shut out bodaboda men who tempted me to get on a bike when I could walk off the calories in that delicious cake I had had in the morning. I could not pretend not to hear the idlers in the taxi park catcalling in all dialects. I could hear everything and anything wherever I was. I started to turn, even when I was not being called. I thought I might go crazy.

The most interesting place to be sans your earphones, dear friends, is the commuter taxi. I got into one on my way to Wandegeya at about 7pm after a long workday. The conductor and driver spoke to each other in Runyankore, but called for passengers in Luganda. That was not even the interesting part. I sat next to a taxi preacher, who is the most dramatic preacher I’ve ever heard. She used the love message in equal proportion with the hell and damnation message. She would literally double over as if in pain, when she expressed how worried she was for anyone who refused to believe in Jesus. I was fascinated by her apparent passion and her use of the different techniques to pass along her message.

Long story short, I miss my earphones. I miss my music so much that I have to colour my roommate’s sleep in the morning with music played on my phone. I miss shutting out everyone. I miss my anti-social shades + earphones + lipstick look. I hope to get new ones soon, so I don’t have to listen to Luganda radio stations call my favourite football team “Aaaséno” every Monday morning.

Addiction? Nah....I don't think so.