A theme of the age, at least in the developed world, is that people crave silence and can find none. The roar of traffic, the ceaseless beep of phones, digital announcements in buses and trains, TV sets blaring even in empty offices, are an endless battery and distraction. The human race is exhausting itself with noise and longs for its opposite—whether in the wilds, on the wide ocean or in some retreat dedicated to stillness and concentration. Alain Corbin, a history professor, writes from his refuge in the Sorbonne, and Erling Kagge, a Norwegian explorer, from his memories of the wastes of Antarctica, where both have tried to escape.
And yet, as Mr Corbin points out in "A History of Silence", there is probably no more noise than there used to be. Before pneumatic tyres, city streets were full of the deafening clang of metal-rimmed wheels and horseshoes on stone. Before voluntary isolation on mobile phones, buses and trains rang with conversation. Newspaper-sellers did not leave their wares in a mute pile, but advertised them at top volume, as did vendors of cherries, violets and fresh mackerel. The theatre and the opera were a chaos of huzzahs and barracking. Even in the countryside, peasants sang as they drudged. They don’t sing now.
What has changed is not so much the level of noise, which previous centuries also complained about, but the level of distraction, which occupies the space that silence might invade. There looms another paradox, because when it does invade—in the depths of a pine forest, in the naked desert, in a suddenly vacated room—it often proves unnerving rather than welcome. Dread creeps in; the ear instinctively fastens on anything, whether fire-hiss or bird call or susurrus of leaves, that will save it from this unknown emptiness. People want silence, but not that much. | Kauli mbiu katika karne hii angalau katika nchi zilizoendelea ni kwamba watu wanatamani kupata utulivu ila hawawezi kuupata. Kelele za magari barabarani, mikirizo isiyoisha ya simu, matangazo ya kidijitali ndani ya mabasi na magari ya moshi, Televisheni zinazowashwa hata katika ofisi ambapo watu hawapo, ni matatizo makubwa na vurugu isioisha. Binadamu wanajiangamiza wenyewe kwa kelele na wanatamani hali iwe tofauti-iwe porini, baharini au katika sehemu maalum zilizotengwa kwa ajili ya utulivu na umakinifu. Msomi wa historia, Alain Corbin anaandika akiwa mafichoni katika eneo la Sorbonne, naye Mtafiti kutoka Norwei, Erling Kagge kutoka katika kumbukumbu zake za the wastes of Antarctica, ambapo wote wamejaribu kutorokea. Na bado, anavyoeleza Bw. Corbin katika makala ya "A History of Silence", huenda sasa hakuna kelele tena kama ilivyokuwa hapo zamani. Kabla ya kuja kwa magurudumu ya magari ya kujazwa pumzi, barabara za jiji zilijawa na kelele za magurudumu za chuma na kelele za vyuma walivyovalishwa farasi wakikimbia kwenye mawe. Kabla ya kuja kwa simu za mkononi zilizosababisha watu kujitenga, mazungumzo yalishamiri ndani ya mabasi na magari ya moshi. Wauza magazeti hawakupanga bidhaa zao na kutulia tu ila walizitangaza kwa kupaza sauti sana na wauza matunda mbalimbali na samaki vilevile hawakuachwa nyumba. Sehemu za maonyesho ya sanaa zilijawa vifijo na nderemo za mashabiki kushangilia na kusuta. Hata katika maeneo ya mashambani, wakulima waliimba wakifanya kazi zao za sulubu. Siku hizi hawaimbi tena. Kilichobadilika sio hasa kiwango cha kelele, ambacho wanajamii katika miongo iliyopita pia walilalamikia ila ni kiwango cha vurugu ambacho kimechukua nafasi ambayo huenda ingechukuliwa na hali ya utulivu. Kunatokota hali ya kinaya tena kwa sababu iwapo utulivu utakuwepo-katika kina chake halisi, katika sehemu zenye upweke, katika chumba kilichohamwa ghafla-mara nyingi huwa ni hali isiyo ya faraja badala ya kuwa ya hali ya kukumbatiwa. Hali ya uwoga huingia; masikio yanamakinikia kitu chochote kile, uwe ni mwenge wa moto unaowaka au michirizi ya sauti ya ndege au miluzi inayotokana na upepo unapopeperusha matawi ya miti hali itakayoyaondolea masikio upweke usiojulikana. Watu wanataka utulivu lakini sio utulivu kupita kiasi. |