New column alert! On Dheelicious musings, we take a peek into the mind of Dhee…
Nine years ago when I decided I was going to take writing serious, I
never thought that nine years later I would be writing this. Perhaps I
wasn’t thinking so far because I didn’t know any writer at the time I
could refer to as a figure of inspiration. I still don’t have a role
model or mentor: what I have is a support system exclusively made up
of family and friends.
When I say I didn’t know any writer I could draw inspiration from when
I started writing, I don’t mean writers I admired or adored; rather I
mean writers who knew disability before they knew ability. Unlike most
writers though, I didn’t start out writing because I love writing, or
because I was crazy about being a writer, I started writing primarily
because it provided a means through which I could experience things my
disability made implausible.
Sometimes I feel my being on a wheelchair enabled me to follow the
path that lead me here, because I remember wanting to be a soldier
when I was young; this was years before I started dreaming of being a
footballer. I couldn’t be a soldier or a footballer, and I sincerely
have no regrets about that. In fact, it’s somewhat ironic that I once
wanted to be a soldier considering how apathetic I now feel towards
A soldier friend of mine once said my apathy towards the military is
born out of bitterness ― bitterness over the fact I couldn’t be a
soldier; but then I’m crazy about football even though I couldn’t be a
footballer, so the bitterness argument is a rather simplistic position
to take. The thing is, I’m a passive pacifist by nature and belief,
and that means I would always be at odds with persons or institutions
that promote contrary ideals.
Like any human though, I have some ideological convictions that betray
my desire to be rational at all times, but unlike most humans, my mind
is a lot more flexible than my limbs are; so you don’t have to worry
about me being a rigid fundamentalist. But even if I was, are my not
supposed to be smart enough to tell you I’m not?
Sarcasm ― yes, I do that a lot, so it’s best you get acquainted to the
fact that sometimes I play devil’s advocate just to highlight how
gullible some intelligent people can be. Sarcasm might be a beautiful
art often made ugly by social media bigots, but that doesn’t diminish
its effectiveness, neither does it suggests all social media bigots
I know this introductory musing has been a medley of fragmented
thoughts, but then musings aren’t meant to be coherent essays either.
I intend to write mostly about my thoughts and emotions in this column
though, and whether or not I end up being a villain of my own
experiences, the value of my subsequent expressions would decide.