As Nigerians, we are always shouting. I don’t mean shouting because we are angry all the time. Sometimes, we are simply talking. At least, that is what we tell ourselves. But listen to two Nigerians having a normal conversation and you would think someone just declared a national emergency.
“Ah! You mean you have not eaten?”
“Wait! So you are telling me you actually saw him?”
“No, No, No, I am not saying that!”
Meanwhile, nobody is fighting. Nobody is angry. Everyone is perfectly fine. We just have a special relationship with volume.
Maybe, it is because we grew up in noisy environments. From roadside vendors calling customers, to conductors shouting destinations, to neighbours calling someone from one end of the compound to the other, Nigerians have somehow mastered the art of communicating across great distances without technology.
Even in public places, silence can make you uncomfortable. Enter a Nigerian bus and you will hear conversations happening at different corners. Someone is discussing politics, another is complaining about the economy, someone else is on the phone narrating their entire relationship, and the driver is contributing his own opinion from the front.
And somehow, everyone can hear everyone.
The funny thing is that shouting is not limited to anger. It is also how we express excitement, surprise, fear, frustration and sometimes love. A Nigerian mother can call your name from downstairs and make you question every questionable decision you have ever made.
“MARIAM!”
You don’t even know what you have done yet, but you are already preparing your defence.
Our voices have become part of our culture. We laugh loudly, argue loudly, celebrate loudly and sometimes pray loudly. A Nigerian gathering can rarely be described as quiet. Even when nobody is saying anything particularly important, somehow there is still noise.
But perhaps there is another side to it. We have become so accustomed to noise that we sometimes mistake loudness for being heard. We shout over people instead of listening to them. We raise our voices when what we actually need is a better argument. We interrupt because we are afraid that if we don’t speak louder, our point will disappear.
Maybe we need to learn that not every conversation needs to become a competition over who has the strongest voice. Sometimes, the person speaking quietly has the most important thing to say.
Still, if you hear two Nigerians shouting at each other today, don’t be too quick to assume they are fighting. Give them a few minutes. They might just be discussing where to buy suya.
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