You Don't Remember Me?

You don’t remember me?

It sounds like an accusation. We tend to smile when we see the anger on the face that wants to be remembered. The smile is also for ourselves, that we look good, we’re healthy, we look like we’re doing something valuable for humanity. That’s why accusers want us to remember them. We don’t remember people in wheelchairs because we quickly look away.

You don’t remember me?

We feel guilty in a way, so we do some apologetic probing: the person’s name, place of birth or schooling. Maybe we were in the same class with their brothers or sisters. Nothing. You have never seen this person before. It turns out you attended the same university. She was a freshman and you were one of the seniors giving new students group tours. How then are you supposed to remember her, when you never knew her, as in really know?

Remembering is good but it is not reciprocal. Remember me as much as you want, but I don’t have to. Example. I saw one woman in Rosebank in Johannesburg. Her name is Dudu (which means to comfort someone).  We attended the same university. She was in the Social Work Department. I was in Political Science, but you couldn’t miss her. Dudu came from a rich family and was one of the best dressed students on campus. But she was very humble, not loud like that classic movie Clueless.

There we were, in a grocery store in Rosebank and Dudu still looked humble. Should I greet her? I didn’t because I remember her but she wouldn’t remember me, since she never knew me.

By: Nonqaba waka Msimang.