I attended a concert recently, my friend’s daughter had a part in the musical rendition of the Dr. Seuss book Horton Hears a Who. As the story goes, Horton an ordinary elephant was splashing around the pool when he hears a voice crying for help. He looks around and finds no one but he still could hear the voice, he finally tracks the voice to a speck of dust. Of course, all the other animals couldn’t hear any voice and thought that Horton was mad. They snatched the dust which he had placed on a clover leaf and dropped it off in a field. Horton then made up his mind to search for that voice believing that a person is a person no matter how small. He finally finds out that the speck was inhabited not only by one person but by a whole town.
The people of the town pleaded with Horton to save them from the field in which they had landed so they could make repairs to their damaged buildings. On the other hand, the other animals believing him to be insane, locked Horton up and threatened to boil the dust speck in oil. Horton pleads with the unseen creatures to shout as much as they could in a concerted effort so their voices would be heard. Shout as much as they could, they were not heard until it was discovered that not all the inhabitants had joined in shouting. A little boy was found playing yo-yo instead of shouting. Recruiting him finally led to their voices being heard. The animals finally hear them, ceding their attack and promising to save them because a person is a person no matter how small.
The story has several meanings and interpretations about the power and the significance of one voice and what can be achieved if one person acts on their beliefs even when alone in that belief. It speaks to the fact that every one of us, even the smallest of us has a voice and that a single voice is not insignificant either alone or when joined with other voices. It’s speaks of the power of empathy and how to follow one’s heart and conscience in-spite of all odds.
The most important message for me though, was that everyone especially our children matter. If there is something being young has taught me, it is that children never forget how we treat them in childhood and that the encounters we have with them, color the way they interact with us when they grow.
There are certain adults in my life that I hold dearly, I can’t remember what they did to me when I was young but whatever they did had a positive lasting impression on me to date. One of them was someone I called Uncle Boyci. He was my parents friend but he became my first “boyfriend” as I called him because it is said that as young as 4 years old, I would march into his house and go straight to him ignoring his wife. One day she stopped me as soon as I walked into their house and told me that she was his wife and that if I didn’t greet her she would ensure that I didn’t enter her house. Believing her threat, I started greeting her thereafter but all through the years until he died some years, ago he had a special place in my heart even though I can’t point anything he said or did to me specially. Though we didn’t see for some years, to date, I think fondly about him.
I am sure that a lot of us have had our own “Uncle Boyci” in our lives; could be an adult, a parent, relative, neighbor, teacher…who made us feel special about ourselves as children.
Could be someone who respected our person and opinions no matter how silly they were, someone who listened to what we had to say and acknowledged our person, someone who asked what we thought about instead of insisting on what and how we should think. I recently read about a French man who in his thirties travelled to Ivory Coast to look for the maid that had brought him up. It is said that he gave her some money and placed her on a monthly allowance. I can only imagine the impact she made in his life that made him look for her years later.
Our culture is such that children were brought up to be seen and not heard. Our preferences, likes and dislikes were ignored because it was felt we were too small to determine how we wanted things to be. So we were forced to eat food we didn’t like, go to places we didn’t like, wear styles we felt uncomfortable with not because our parents couldn’t afford what we liked or preferred but because in the scheme of things, we couldn’t have opinions different from that of our parents.
We grew up keeping most things to ourselves and waiting to grow up so we could do what we really liked. We grew to meet the adults who became astonished at how fast we grew and how unrecognizable we became.
Children are said to have long memories. Parenting has taught me that the relationship we have with our children when they are small determines the kind of relationship they will have with us as adults. So if we think that our responsibility to them when young is merely to feed, clothe and educate them without knowing anything about them, then they will do so with us when they grow up. If however, we want to have a deep relationship with them when we are old, we must be ready to sow the seeds of that relationship when they are young. Friendship with them in adulthood is not a given and they will not be our friends when we are old and need them to be.
Please understand me, I am not saying that we should be their friend and not their parent in their formative years. I am saying that as we bring them up we should understand that they are miniature adults, human beings with likes and dislikes, troubles and worries and accord them respect.
A lot of our parents are having trouble connecting with their adult children in old age and the reasons are that the children see the care given to them as a duty demanded by society. They appreciate it and will in turn look after their parents fulfilling the cycle of care but they may not have that close relationship with them.
As parents we must recognize the fact that the roles will reverse sooner than later and that someday in the not too distant future we might find themselves dependent on our children and that the way we treat them when they were young is likely to be how they will treat us when we are old.
The story of Horton ends on a positive note and so should ours with our children as we acknowledge their person and uniqueness.
That one small extra (voice) put it over
Finally at last from that speck on the clover
Their voices were heard! They rang out clear and clean
and the elephant smiled. “Do you see what I mean? …
They’ve proved they are persons no matter how small.
And their whole world was saved by the smallest of all.
