The power of communication

“The art of communication is the language of leadership.” James HumesOnce upon a winter, I saw a beggar sitting cross-legged on a damp pile of cartons on a day that went down as the wettest, windiest and coldest days of the decade. I know weather people tend to exaggerate, but it was a miserable day. The beggar was a sad sight – a young man in his late 30s to mid-40s, unshaven probably since the 80s, and an odour that permeated the air for 500 yards, at least.Despite his desperate ragged look, he looked hopeful as he lifted his placard high above his elbows whenever a passerby glanced in his general direction. He wore, surprisingly, swanky Adidas shoes and bottoms; I assumed those were probably donated to him because it was freaking cold and wet. He was begging in the upmarket super postcodes of West London where all the rich Saudis reside. His placard read “I’m very hungry. God bless you.” I read his placard, but I didn’t give him anything – for two reasons 1) I’m not loaded yet, and 2) because I was confused by the writing. I couldn’t figure out what the words meant. Did he mean he was very hungry and by that assertion only, God should bless whoever read it? Or did he mean he was very hungry and if you (the reader) fed him God would bless you? Oh, the power of communication or lack of. I said a little prayer for him and got on my way.I was en-route to a training course. One of those mandatory training courses that are imposed upon on us mere mortals by employers because the qualifications we presented upon employment clearly indicated that our brains needed refreshing every few months. Or they have so much money to burn they train you on the same thing twice a year.At the training, I met a wonderful soul who talked so much she choked on words. She was the human google; she had answers for every question no matter how awkward. She completed people’s sentences just like google. She suggested alternatives to her own suggestions, it was weird watching and listening to her. She even had answeres for rhetorical questions. My unsolicited evaluation of her was that she was suffering some sort of illness, and that if she didn’t speak for prolonged [30 seconds plus] periods of time, her head would explode into an assortment of multi-coloured like they use in nursery schools to teach young kids. She was a beautiful soul – when she wasn’t driving people to suicide, she was raising thought-provoking dialogues. She would, for example, ask “why do people say ‘it was not raining when Noah built the ark!’” then almost immediately, she would answer [animatedly] “of course it was not raining!!!! God told him to build the ark because later on, it was going to rain cats n dogs!!! Duh!”I, always the controversial one, would pipe a smart ass comment and say “the saying is, highly likely, aimed at people who even when warned will wait until the last minute to do whatever e.g. most Kenyans, some Nigerians and a few Africans!” Lady google threw her head back and laughed heartily before punching my upper arm as a sign of agreement. I did not like that.After a jam-packed morning of training about the importance of funding in health research, I went to lunch with a colleague. He whispered to me that we should probably run out of the building before lady google accosted us. I nearly lost my arm at the revolving doors because my colleague was too eager to get out that he pushed the doors too hard and they stopped revolving, just as I was halfway in. So we spent a few frustrating minutes trying to make the doors revolve again, needlessly to say lady google had joined us by then. She made a backhanded comment about how she was baffled by people who make idiot mistakes on idiot-proof situations – I think she was referring to us and the revolving door incident. My colleague gave her a murderous stare but she was unmoved, in fact, I don’t think she realised what she’d said. She had an endearing naivety where her mouth flew open before her brain engaged.Later that day I met with a friend I hadn’t seen in a long time. We wanted to have a drink and talk possibilities. We met in one of those dark new age wine bars with fading blue lights, small round tables with two one-seater armchairs around the table. It felt like whoever designed that bar wanted you to sit there forever, drinking and eating overly expensive snacks and food that disintegrated in your mouth like glucose. One would need magnifying glasses to see the portions because they appeared further than in reality.After ordering the pretentious but insanely delicious food bites, we talked possibilities. My friend was telling me about another friend, who was in the process of writing a book. This is what I heard … “So Gemma is writing a book about her penis…” My reaction was instant. “Huh? Gemma has a penis!!!?” I was, to say the goddamn least, baffled. My friend erupted in a laugh that lasted 5-10 minutes; it was so loud a glass must have shattered somewhere. She couldn’t catch her breath and had to fist bang on the short small round table for several seconds, making our margarita glasses jump and spill the expensive liquid. At some point I got very uncomfortable wondering why what I asked was so funny, other punters were looking at her like she was a deranged clown on crack. I had to do something. “Why are you laughing? Your make-up is now smudged all over your face and you have mascara stained tears running down your face.” That made her stop. She whipped out a compact and checked her face. It was not as bad as I had described, so she relaxed. She then slowly and deliberately said, “Gemma is writing a book about HAPPINESS!!” And then we both ruptured into a laughter that went down in the history of that bar, as the most guttural insane laugh of all times.We should never judge too harshly because someone somewhere always has a problem with someone somewhere and how they talk and or communicate. Maybe one day the universe will have a global language with no barriers irrespective of geo-positioning. There is power in written/spoken words.***For more like this…. Join the tribeLike us on FacebookFollow us on TwitterFollow us on Instagram