This post is in the interest of stating the obvious that I think needs to be stated.
I recently almost caused an international incident during an interview. The interviewer was a foreign national from a European country whose capital city’s name starts with the letter M. Another clue is that the citizens of her country are sadists who like to watch men in ballet tights and artificially bulging crotches torture and kill animals in public.
In response to one of her questions, I replied: “Don’t keep apologising for your ignorance of Africa. It’s quite OK.” She turned three shades of violet before making a hissing sound and disappearing into the ladies’ for about 20 minutes during which I sat perspiring profusely. That’s because she had mentioned her connections with prominent diplomats from her country. I’ve met a few members of the SANDF, looked at their midribs and concluded that we’re not really ready for war.
Regular readers of this blog are familiar with the problems I have with the filters between my brain and my mouth. I call it my brain-in-mouth disease. But my BIMD wasn’t the source of my (apparent) gaffe. As a matter of fact, I had meant to convey exactly just that — that she shouldn’t feel bad because of her ignorance of Africa’s geography. Had she given me an opportunity, I would have explained to her that I am just as ignorant of the geography of her continent — and that this shouldn’t be an unexpected thing. But my use of the word “ignorance” was an insurmountable hurdle for us to get over.
Here’s my thing. I use the word “ignorant” and its varieties quite a lot in conversations. For instance, I might arrive 20 minutes late for an appointment in Cape Town and cite my ignorance of that European city’s streets as my excuse. Now that I have written an almost successful book I am very often involved in conversations that go something like:
Know-it-all: You know, Ndumiso, this discussion reminds me of the opening chapter of RK Narayan’s Swami and Friends.
Ignoramus author: I am ignorant of Narayan and his work.
KIA: (Incredulously) Really! You’ve never read any of RK Narayan’s works?
IA: It’s worse than that. I hadn’t heard about him until you mentioned his name a few seconds ago.
KIA: Ha. You don’t say. (Seriously disappointed now)
Many people who have read my book have expressed an opinion that my writing is peppered with too many self-effacing remarks displaying a lack of confidence or misplaced modesty. I always retort by pointing out that this is either a case of my failure as a writer to convey my mood or that they probably misunderstood my meaning. I’m always quite open to both possibilities.
However, when I drill down, it always boils down to my frequent use of the word “ignorant” to describe either myself or some of my opinions. For the record, when I use the word “ignorant”, I use it in its most literal sense — that is, unaware or lacking in knowledge. I guess it’s just one of my many personality defects that I honestly do not attach any negative connotation to the word.
I have always taken it for granted that, in the greater scheme of things, it is impossible for one not to be ignorant of many things. I mean, given the sheer volume of information that one is bombarded with on a daily basis, I daresay that I’m generally an extremely ignorant individual. Ask me anything to do with the probability of stress fractures in structures reinforced with metal alloy beams and I’ll give you a blank look.
However, I am well aware that there is a general tendency to conflate the meaning of ignorance with the definition for stupidity. For most people, ignorance is the same as stupidity. Not as far as I am concerned. For me, stupidity implies a brain with an impaired ability to process information and come to reasonable conclusions. Ignorance merely implies a lack of awareness of certain information. Big difference in my world.
So when my interviewer from the other day finally emerged from the bathroom having calmed down somewhat, I tried to clarify what I had meant to convey to her. Of course, attempting to do this is like trying to climb over barbed wire without nicking your nads. All I did was just to dig myself deeper into the quicksand because I kept on using “ignorant” a few more times to illustrate my point. You can pin that one down to my BIMD/stupidity combo of defects.
I guess that what I’m wondering is whether there’s anything wrong with my understanding of the word “ignorant”. Since the interview incident I have started noticing that, generally speaking, people seem to have a morbid fear of admitting ignorance of things. Just to mess with a fellow tennis enthusiast I met in a social setting recently, I performed this experiment during a conversation:
Me: Yes, that Andy Murray is definitely one to watch for the future.
Enthusiast: Oh, most definitely.
Me: I think we’re in for a treat, what with the emergence of that other sensation from Bulgaria, Slabolesky.
Enthusiast-turned-liar: Yeah, yeah. That Slabolesky is another good one.
For the record, I made up this Slabolesky on the spot. He doesn’t exist. But to my friend, admitting that he didn’t know Slabolesky would have been tantamount to an admission of guilt of a cardinal sin — ignorance. Most people I know are exactly the same way.
But I suppose this also has something to do with the fact that many people just assume that everybody knows what they know. A few days ago I was walking in a mall when someone called me to remind me of an email to which I was supposed to have responded. So I walked into the nearest shop and asked the attendant where I could find an internet café. Oh, it’s the shop next to the Edgars, she responded.
When I inquired where the Edgars might be located, she responded with that incredulous “Are you kidding me? Where are you from?” look reserved for aliens from far-flung places like Welkom: “The only Edgars in the mall. You know, downstairs and to your left?”
The argumentative prick inside of me was tempted to retort with a snide remark along the lines of: “You say that as if everybody should know this in the same way that everybody knows that nickel is the favoured catalyst in the hydrogenation of unsaturated fatty acids.”
But that would have just made me a sarcastic, smarty-pants know-it-all, so I just snorted a barely audible “thank you” and cleared off in the direction of the apparently universally known Edgars.
As much as Albert Einstein was a genius, I doubt that he would have made any meaningful contribution to a discussion about the influence of the retro movement on the 1950s Milan men’s couture scene. I also think it’s fair to describe Einstein’s knowledge of the rites of passage to manhood of the South Pacific Ntongo tribe as “ignorant”.
To my interviewer from the other day: I hope my utterances make sense now. When it comes to things outside the scope of our immediate expertise, we’re all just a bunch of ignoramuses.
Author
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