The Day of His Secret
by Anna Atsu
It starts: “Today I have a secret, and all day long my secret will be like a friend to me. Tonight I will tell it to my family, but now I have work to do in my city”.
"Another day, another story," wrote Anna, after delivering a ‘ratio’ lesson at the distant school. There, she had once loved many people before, and today's mission was to teach maths to just one student for a mere hour. But hey, who goes back to places they like just for one person, one hour, one subject? Not Anna, that's for sure!
Now, you might be thinking, "Here we go again, another thrilling episode from Anna's work saga?!" Brace yourself, my friend, because Anna's got the lowdown on a universal behaviour that transcends cultures. And you know Anna – she's into art, cultures, cities, boys, girls, work, books, and, of course, secrets.
The big revelation? People love to peek into other people's lives and play detective. It's a worldwide obsession with soap operas and reality shows, from "Paradise Islands" to "East Standers" (and everything in between I am not acquainted with), depending on the chosen medium, country of origin and the narrative's drama level.
Sure, they pretend not to be interested, but deep down, they're dying to know the secret stories of other people's days. And if they're not glued to TV screens, they're busy scrolling through celebrities' "stories" on social media, rewatching their "rolls" (rolls, not roles, because phones are protective, but who needs spelling when there's drama to unfold), or reading their articles to decipher what they're up to.
Now, teachers and writers? They're usually cool with it. They genuinely care and want to share. Anna, being an aspiring storyteller, can draw all kinds of angles. But in English schools, they don't draw in math lessons; they calculate! A boy, not quite acquainted, looked as blue as Anna's eyes in full sunlight. So, they switched the light focus to ratios. Anna can guide through ratios like a pro, especially when the first question always starts with, "In the classroom, there are... students, the ratio of boys to girls is..." Sure, Anna would rewrite it by girls first, but who cares when girls always have doors opened first? No competition…
And just when you thought it couldn't get any quirkier, Anna throws in a Nirvana reference, because the English Y11 boy listens like a baby to grunge and a motherly voice. Who doesn't like the state of Nirvana, even the swimming baby?
And voila, that's just one of the rules they all tend to follow – they peek in, they follow, they share, they disclose.
If you want the full scoop on the fascinating rules, not meaning the school ones, you'll find them neatly packaged in a book titled "Watching the English: The Hidden Rules of English Behaviour."
I am not implying by this that I see English culture as a homogeneous entity – that I expect to find no variation in behaviour patterns, customs, beliefs, etc. – any more than I am suggesting that the ‘rules of Englishness’ are universally obeyed.”
Kate Fox
Fox attempts to flee the blindness to the similarities between the English and other cultures. After all, whether dwelling in the British Kingdom of rules or any other locale with its own set of norms, we all keep an eye on the English.
We grow up with British Mr Bean, Sesame Street, Matilda, Mrs Doubtfire, Robin Hood, and Sting, just as much as we do with American Friends, Goofy, Kevin at Home, The Horse Whisperer, Dumb and Dumber, Ninja Kids, Flipper and Madonna. I'm sure you've watched or cheered many more, and so have I!
“I have a sound, too, the sound of my cart makes: Karink rink rink, Karin, rink rink. I know my sound helps to make the whole sound of the city, and it would not be the same without me. Loudest of all to me today is the silent sound of my secret, which I have not yet spoken.”
You see, writing poetry costs me as much as buckets of rain outside my window. Crafting recent tales of green and blue requires buckets of laughter. Buckets, however, are never equitable. What others carry in theirs might be weightier than your bucket, and what they take lightly can feel like a ton on your shoulders.
Watching "The English..." will have you laughing out loud ("Oh, I do that!") and cringing simultaneously ("Oh, I do that as well."). This book is a riot, laying us bare for what we truly are—beautifully observed. It's a delightfully watchful read for both the English and those who observe and just laugh, wondering why we all engage in the peculiar behaviours we do.
“Overall the noise I hear my name, (…), and my name becomes part of the city sound too.”
We all are governed by complex sets of unspoken personal and cultural rules and bizarre codes of behaviour. If you are interested in demystifying the peculiar cultural rules that baffle us, get Fox’s perspective:
The rules of weather-speak.
The ironic-gnome rule.
The reflex apology rule.
The paranoid pantomime rule.
Class anxiety tests.
The English self-mockery
and many more…
“and the bright colours of the cart mingle with the other colours of the street, the way the noises all go together to make a sound of the city.”
Back to my tale of yesterday:
Later on, I bump into a mate from the land of kangaroos where I get to see him in front of a presentation with "The Starry Night," my ultimate blue crush by Van Gogh. And what do you know? The very same starry-eyed expression on my heart today pinned proudly to my blue top.
Naturally, I'm so mesmerised that I ascend to heights where eagles dare, only to realise that my tasks are firmly rooted on the ground floor. Talk about reaching for the stars when your feet are firmly planted on the ground!
No regrets whatsoever – just another day at my favourite spot, the multilingual library, where my English colleague decides to interrogate me about my mysterious pin badge.
"Oh, this? My most loyal lover," I confidently declare. She's probably expecting some juicy romantic saga, but no, it's about an oriental fabric I've been eyeing for my laptop bag. The catch? She hasn't snagged one for me yet, despite my readiness to splurge.
She gives me a raised eyebrow look, clearly worried that my pin badge paramour might not be the epitome of loyalty. I reassure her, "No worries, he's long gone. Deader than disco. So, I'm the sole heartbreaker in this library, pinning him down in more ways than one."
And with that “quick break”, I go back to my heroic mission of unscrewing table legs, turning tables into the most bookish bookshelves you've ever laid eyes on. Who said library drama was reserved for overdue books?
You know, I'm a book enthusiast through and through. I mean, I'll happily dive into anything related to books, even if it means getting dirty with shelf-screwing. And let me tell you, when it comes to speedy screwing, forget power tools—my trusty manual screwdriver is the unsung hero of the bookish DIY world. Without a manual (or a clue, for that matter), I took my sweet time, indulging in activities I don’t get a chance to do otherwise. I like to think I'm just giving them the literary love they deserve.
Then I am kindly asked to carry some chairs upstairs. Sure! I will take them as high as a starry night…
“My special colours are part of the city too. Woven into the harness of my donkey are my own good-luck ones, blue, green, and gold”.
“I am proud that I can carry these big heavy bottles all the way up the steps to the floor where she lives. I am proud that I can do this work”.
I get to see another friend, the best line manager in the past and the most garden-absorbed person from Pakistan that I know. Expecting a retired vibe? Nope! She's rocking the gloom like it's the new black, looking more beautiful than Van Gogh’s sunflower in a vase. She's all rested and proudly boasts about her self-sufficient kingdom of veggies and flowers. I'm thinking “Mother Nature” regretting that I couldn’t do my chairs-carrying workout outside the building, in nature… I don’t visit gyms!
We get into a deep chat about our fabulous city, and she drops: "This is the place to be." I nod in agreement, not quite as enthusiastically as an American yelling "New York!" but feeling like this year's farming scene is as jolly as a New Year's Eve bash in the heart of my Apple. Who knew farming could be the hippest party in town?
“My father has told me that the wall is a thousand years old, and even our great-great-grandfathers were not yet born when it was built. There are many old buildings, many old walls like the one I lean against, in my city”.
Touching the new books is a must, but I don't neglect the old ones either. This particular tome doesn't seem to have lost an ounce of its charm, and that's the one I'll be quoting all the way down:
“I close my eyes and have my quiet time, the time my father says I must have each day. If there are no quiet spaces in your head, it fills with noise”, he has told me.
“‘Hurry to grow strong’, he said again. “But do not hurry to grow old”.
“My father says the wind carries sand all through the city to remind us that the desert is there, is there beside us, and is a part of us.
He tells me that the great desert presses against our city on one side, and the great river pushes against it on the other.
‘We live between them’, my father has said. ‘Between our two friends, the river and the desert”.
All over the world, people know of our city
And the desert, what is that called? I ask.
My father shrugs and smiles. “The hot winds call our desert home”.
Florence Parry Heide & Judith Heide Gilliland, The Day of Ahmed’s Secret
“The sand is a part of each day, like the noise, like the colours of the city, like the things my father said.”
And the inside cover says:
Judy Girl: See? Anything is possible!
Mum: You always believed and you were right.
Here are two of the ‘hidden treasures’:
And click the link below if you are an arty friend who wishes to send someone a card without straining Royal Mail Service with your “secret” and “great name”.
Psst! That's the grand finale of my life updates today, I am going into my “quiet weekend time”. Oh, by the way, I've got three epic sagas of dirty laundry unfolding in my room, but I figure you're not into sharing dirty soap operas.
My beloved Armani suit is currently on a spa vacation at the local dry cleaners. Fingers crossed they treat it with more care than Fox, trying to trick…
…a squirrel. I mean, it's not every day your suit gets a more luxurious getaway than you do.
Now, brace yourself for the riveting saga of my squeaky-clean squirrel adventures. Picture me strolling through the clutching books I accumulated throughout the week from all the school libraries in my great city. Library card? Pfft, who needs one when the librarians trust me implicitly with my green-blue pass:
"Return when you’re ready”.
They nod at me like I am the Gandalf of overdue fines. Talk about literary trust falls to the floor!
Get ready for the weekend,
Do your laundry
Don’t hide your true colours!
If you are too busy looking for bread to eat today, share your view at the end of the day before you go to your “quiet mode”.
And here is the first shared view of today’s marvellous sky before the torrential rain that I predicted at night. My body anticipates the natural beauty in the great NEW city’s style:
I see you obey the English rules yourself. Never to be serious of yourself as it is a deadly sin in the British Kingdom.
Of course according to what Kate Fox wrote in her book.