Drawing by Ron Leishman
When last did
you whistle while working?
When last did
you hear someone else whistle while working?
Somehow it
bothers me that whistling has become an almost absent element in our work. The
sound of a person whistling a tune while busy somewhere in the house or out in
the workshop conveys something of an underlying happiness, satisfaction and
contentment. An enjoyment of the work itself.
The tune need
not be flawless. Applying more air than sound won’t lead to disqualification,
as long as the intention is there. Whistling can even be replaced by singing in
all that I’ve said up to now. The same principles apply.
The absence of
any of these two activities bothers me because it says something about us doing
the work and the type of work that we do. Can it be that our type of labour in
this 21st century is not conducive to either whistling or singing?
What type of work is that then – draining, stressful, pressured? Or are our
conclusions in this matter more applicable to the workers? Are we inherently
unhappy, driven people filled with discontent? Which means that Thoreau was
right when he said that the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. Let’s
assume that his observation was correct. That creates a whole new set of
problems, for he made that comment in the 1840’s! How is it that we’ve learnt
nothing and somehow only created more superior methods to make ourselves
unhappy?
I do not think
that a picture perfect life is a precondition to whistling or singing. Michael
Ntuli who worked with me in the workshop for a number of years before he was
poisoned at a shebeen in 2011 used to sing while working. Often he would even
put down the tool he was busy with to make a few turns and take a few dance
steps before carrying on with the job at hand, singing nonstop. And that while
having trouble with the in-laws and with a wife who was gradually leaving him
by making the distances and periods she lived away from him longer and longer.
Women who have
grown up in certain contexts might say at this point that they would love to
whistle but for some reason or the other their grandparents and in some
instances even their parents discouraged girls from whistling. Apparently it is improper and not very ladylike. In Afrikaans we have a sort of nursery rhyme to
that effect:
Hennetjies wat kraai se nek word omgedraai
Meisietjies
wat fluit word by die deur uitgesmyt
To my
astonishment I found something similar in English:
"A whistling woman and a crowing hen are
neither fit for God nor men"
To that I say, “Boloney!”
We need all the whistling we can possibly muster and Matilda softly whistling
to herself while busy in her studio or study doesn’t make me want to leave her.
On the contrary!
Glancing over this piece, I see more questions than answers. More “maybes” than “certainlys”. I do
not have solutions readily available for most of the problems I’m posing. But
what I do know is that something’s rotten in the state of Denmark. And it
worries me.
Maybe I should
stop worrying and start whistling. Not like whistling in the dark to work up
some courage. More whistling as if I mean and enjoy it. I have a feeling that
all talk without a tune won’t help us much in this case. We should start with
the melody and the rest will follow. How about just putting our lips together and
blow?
We have a cleaner lady here at work who, once every now and then, maybe once a week, sings in the passage whilst going about her chores. Not timid singing whifting by, NO, serious full-on cristal clear pure tune glorious singing resonating high. It starts unexectedly and ends abruptly. Meetings carry on, telephone conversations keep going, work continues. She is never silenced. During this brief interlude of harmonious bliss, moods are elated, miracles are believed and heaven is heard.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful!
ReplyDeleteMy sister tells me about the elderly Chinese gentleman who prepared their take away a while ago. He did that whilst singing softly all along. Somehow, according to her, it was one of the tastiest meals they’ve had in a long time. It seems as if our singing/whistling while working does not only have the potential to do us a world of good, but it is done to the benefit of those who hear us as well.
It bothers me though that the examples given around this topic thus far involve African and Asian people. Are they really the only ones in tune with this wisdom? (Pardon the pun)
As far as whistling goes, I possess a mean 'wolwefluit', used more to attract someone's/everyone's attention than to express happiness, satisfaction or contentment. I have sung before ... people were scared.
ReplyDeleteSomeone else who scared people were Seraphine Louis, a French domestic worker and self-taught painter whose life is captured by the acclaimed film Seraphine (2008).
DeleteAn excerpt from Medicographia, http://www.medicographia.com/wp-content/pdf/Medicographia103.pdf puts it this way:
"What a singular destiny that of Séraphine Louis. Born into a needy
peasant community in Picardy, France, in 1864, who could have
foreseen that life’s path would lead her to the pantheon of French
naïve artists between the two World Wars? Mystical, prone to visions, this
fey artist praised by the surrealists painted, she said, at the behest of the Virgin Mary. Ever more mysterious enlaced flowers, leaves, and fruits thrived in
the heaven bound “garden of paradise” that grew out of the ramblings of her
unconscious mind. Provided for and encouraged by Wilhelm Uhde, the German art collector who discovered Picasso and Henri Rousseau, her works exhibited, Séraphine over the years drifted through visions and fancies and on
into madness. Committed to a lunatic asylum in 1932, she died there 10 years
later, utterly destitute, leaving to the world of art her numinous experience
incarnate in paintings of the “Good Lord’s garden.”
Medicographia. 2010;32:210-216 (see French abstract on page 216)"
What struck me in the film was the way she sang canticles while painting obsessively in her studio with windows flung open over the town's rooftops. It is said that townspeople knew from her singing when a painting was completed.
Her genius was described by Uhde as "An extraordinary passion, a sacred fervor, a medieval ardor." It seemed the line between passion and insanity, in her case, got blurred and finally gave way.
But she sang while she worked. And she was French. So I thought I'd just mention her here... It reminds me of a poem by Emily Dickinson. Which I think I'll post with a picture of one of Seraphine's glorious paintings. How little we understand of each other's worlds.
Matilda
M, why don't you tell them about The Voice at Groot Constantia?
ReplyDeleteElmi, whistling a tune is one thing and should be encouraged. The type of whistling that you apply, well...Siss, man! :-)
ReplyDelete