There is something about memory that I find fascinating. It is interesting how our minds filter things; losing certain aspects of occurrences while keeping others; altering those kept aspects and making us question if what we remember really happened.
I might have mentioned how I was in a road accident late last year. And this incident is, for the most part, out of my mind. Like I can't quite tell where exactly the accident took place, even though I have used that route numerous times since. What is interesting is that occassionally, I get vivid images of how everything went down: from the second I thought that we were in trouble to the point of impact to the subsequent overturning and the lingering screams. The first time this happened was a few weeks after the accident. I was on my way to town when my mind registered, somewhat belatedly, that the song playing on the matatu's radio was the same one that was playing on the day that I got into that accident. Traffic was moving slowly and I actually found it weird when the matatu I was in got into a fender bender with the vehicle in front. If I were a superstitious person, I would have thought that song was cursed. But alas, I am not. I just find that song a trigger. I can't tell you the title, because I don't know it. I also don't know the artist. But it is a ragga song. I keep on telling myself that I will look it up. But I haven't. And I think I owe it to myself to do it. But amidst all these, there is a chance that maybe this song was not the one playing at the moment it happened. Another possibility is that I may not have heard of this song before. Maybe it never even played. I will never be sure of these details.
All these, I must say, is influenced by the song Neighbourhood #1 Tunnels by Arcade Fire that I have on repeat right now
'Then, we try to name our baby
But we've forgot all the names that
The names we used to know
But sometimes we remember our bedrooms
And our parent's bedrooms
And the bedrooms of our friends
And then we think of our parents
Well, whatever happened to them?"
Memory. Choosing whatever it wants to remember. Letting me know, in no uncertain terms, that I can't hurry it. Keeping things from me when I desperately need them. Choosing to ignore my pleas to point me in the right direction.
The title of this post is from the song The Only Ones Who Know by The Arctic Monkeys.
