I väntan...

Blogginlägg skall helst vara korta. Det spar tid.
Det här är långt. Och är tidskrävande. Men jag tror det sätter fingret.... på vårt problem.
( En bra, och betydligt kortare, framställning om tid och väntan finns på Å;s blogg )

The European and the African have an entirely different concept of time. In the European worldview, time exists outside man, exists objectively, and has measurable and linear characteristics.
The European feels himself to be the time´s slave, dependent on it, subject to it. To exist and function, he must observe its ironclad, inviolate laws, its inflexible principles and rules. He must heed deadlines, dates, days and hours. He moves within the rigors of time and cannot exist outside them. They impose upon him their requirements and quotes. An unresolvable conflict exists between man and time, one that always ends with man´s defeat - time annihilates him.
Africans apprehend time differently. For them it is a much looser concept, more open, elastic, subjective. It is man who influences time, its shape, course and rythm (man acting, of course, with the concent of gods and ancestors). Time is even something that man can create outright, for time is made manifest through events, and whether an event takes place or not depends, after all, on man alone.
Time appears as a result of our actions, and vanishes when we neglect or ignors it. It is something that springs to life under our influence, but falls into a state of hibernation, even nonexistence, if we do not direct our energy toward it. It is a subservient, passive essence, and, most importantly, one dependent on man.
The absolute opposite of time as it is understood in the European worldview.
In practical terms, this means that if you go to a village where a meeting is scheduled for the afternoon but find no one at the appointed spot, asking " When will the meeting take place ? " makes no sense. You know the answer. " It will take place when people come ".
Therefore the African who boards a bus sits down in a vacant seat, and immediatly falls into a state in which he spends a great portion of his life: a benumbed waiting.
" These people have a fantastic talent for waiting ! " an Englishman who has lived here for years tells me. " Talent, stamina, some peculiar kind of instinct. "
Africans believe that a mysterious energy ciculates through the world, ebbing and flowing, and if it draws near and fils us up, it will start to happen. Until this occurs, however one must wait; any other bahaviour is delusional and quixotic.
What does this dull waiting consist of ? People know what to expect; therefore, they try to settle themselves in as comfortably as possible, in the best possible place. Sometimes they lie down, sometimes they sit on the ground, or on a stone, or squat. They stop walking. A waitning group is mute. It emits no sound. The body goes limp, doops, shrinks. The muscles relax. The neck stiffens, the head ceases to move. The person does not look around, does not observe anything, is not curious. Sometimes his eyes are closed - but not always. More frequently, they are open but appear unseeing, with no spark of life in them. I have observed for hours on end crowds of people in this state of inanimate waiting, a kind of profound physiological sleep: The do not eat, they do not drink, they do not urinate; they react neither to the mercilessy scorching sun, nor to the aggressive, voracious flies that cover eyelids and lips.
What in the meantime, is going on inside their heads ?
I do not know. Are they thinking ? dreaming ? Reminiscing ? Making plans ? Meditating ? Traveling in the worlds beyond ? It is difficult to say.

Ur The shadow of the sun, my african life av Ryscard Kapuchinski (RK)