Surrounded by idiot or just poor translators?

There is a man somewhere in Eswatini who is currently in trouble and even he doesn’t know why. His girlfriend asked him, “What do you think we should eat?” and, like a citizen who still believes in fairness and due process, he answered: “Chicken.”

Silence. Not normal silence. The kind of silence where even the ancestors sit up straight like, “Ahh… Just say nothing! Curb your enthusiasm! Shhhh!” She says: “I’m not in the mood for chicken.” He quips, pizza?  She retorts, ‘‘I’m trying to eat clean.’’

Now this man is confused because this is no longer a conversation.  This is war! He is a moving target with emotional penalties. So he retreats: “You choose.” Now she looks at him as if he has just failed a test he didn’t know he was taking. Then she says it. “I’m fine.” Gentlemen, that is not English. That is a coded message from The Chancellor by Robert Ludlum. That is government communication in a relationship. It means:

You have already failed. We are just finalising the charges. So the man starts investigating like a journalist with no sources. “Did I do something?” “No.” “Are you sure?” “Yes.” That ‘yes’ has tone. Tone has meaning. Tone is policy. Just when he thinks he has survived…“You don’t listen!”

Listen to what? There was no statement. No meeting. No evidence. This man is being punished for failing to interpret silence. That is when it hit me.

Somewhere between that relationship, Sunday sermons, parliamentary debates and those kombi rides where strangers fix the entire economy before reaching Manzini… We are surrounded by idiots, not!

People are very brilliant. The question that matters is at what? We are surrounded by people who communicate like they are not in the mood for getting the message across. Now let’s go to church, Bhudla. Sunday morning. The pastor arrives looking like he has a direct contract with Heaven, suit shining, shoes so polished their toe caps beep at supermarket exits like unpaid groceries. He opens the Bible and starts like he is addressing the United Nations. “Brethren, today we shall interrogate the theological architecture of salvation…” The congregation goes quiet. Not spiritual quiet. Utterly confused!You can see an old man thinking, “Yaphela irecess lengaphunga ngayo lomuhla ngibuyele esikolweni. English yaGrade bani lena?” Then the interpreter stands up. Now this one… stutters because he has flu and sneezes mid-sentence.“Ba-ba-bazalwane… utsi… um… Nkulunkulu u… u… u…” The Sunday school crew had the sound and they are giggling while the elders  lean forward like it’s a penalty shoot-out.“…u… utawunipha… umusa…” Small relief, but he’s not finished. “…kodvwa… kodvwa… kumele ni… ni… ni…”

Now people are tense again because that stutter is stretching the sentence into something dangerous.

“…niyekele… tintfo… letimbi…” “Amen! ” Relief! As for a second there, it sounded like he was about to call names, but now the interpreter is gaining confidence. That’s when things get risky. The pastor continues, full paragraph, English doing gymnastics, words that even English people must sit down to understand.The interpreter wipes sweat and comes back: “Utsi… Nkulunkulu uyati kutsi niyahlupheka… kepha… uma ningalaleli… nibese niyabona…” Now the church is divided. Half are confused. Half feel personally attacked. One woman whispers, “Sibona njani? Ngubani lobonako?” Another one is already offended on behalf of her entire household.

Meanwhile, the pastor is still explaining spiritual alignment like it’s a construction project. The interpreter realises this is going south. He simplifies: “Ngalamafisha… thandazani. Nkulunkulu muhle.” Explosion. “Amen!!!” Now everyone understands.

At this point, the interpreter is no longer translating. He is negotiating peace between English and reality. He is editing for survival because if he attempts the full sentence with that stutter, people might think he is insulting them mid-delivery and the service will end with a committee meeting. That is exactly how government communicates. Policies leave offices sounding like they were written by people who are allergic to short sentences. “Multi-sectoral frameworks… socio-economic transformation…” By the time it reaches the public, it arrives like that sermon, shortened, rearranged and slightly suspicious.The man at Bhadzeni II is not asking for frameworks. He is asking: “Will this fix my road or not?” However, instead of answers, he gets an interpretation.Then the MP shows up… with food parcels. Now, policy has turned into groceries. When people do not understand what you are saying, they will judge you by what you bring. People want their MP to ensure relevant ministries deliver infrastructure, empower them to be self-sufficient through funding and bring opportunities.

However, one minute the MP is debating national issues. The next minute, he is expected to deliver food parcels because the policies he shouts in Parliament are taking too long to come to fruition. Now, here is the truth! When communication fails, leadership becomes guesswork and guesswork always ends the same way – with someone getting shouted at.

Just like that man who chose chicken. Now we sit back and say: “These people have misplaced reasoning.” However, maybe they are not. Maybe they are just communicating like someone who says ‘I’m fine’… and expects you to understand everything.

I blame Thomas Erikson – Surrounded by Idiots, for giving people confidence without clarity. This is because now everyone thinks they are the only intelligent person in a room full of confusion, which they contributed to. Listen carefully, though, that is not what Erikson meant.

His point is simple. People understand information differently. Some want it fast and direct. Others want stories. Some want peace. Others want facts so detailed that they could audit the national budget from their kitchen table. When those styles clash, we start calling each other names. Meanwhile, the real problem is simple. The message was sent in the wrong language. Even Paul Loffler would tell you, the joke is not that people are stupid.The joke is that we keep talking… like we don’t want to be understood. If everyone keeps getting it wrong… maybe they are not idiots. Maybe you just need to look closer and establish if you are saying ‘I’m fine’ to people tired of guessing. Or just maybe, the man in the mirror is the idiot!