I know two phrases in Tshiluba. The first is irrelevant to this post. The second is simple, a greeting.
* * * * * *
“When we say, ‘Moyo,’ it has two meanings,” my dad told me. “First, it means, ‘Hello, how are you.’ But it also means something like ‘connecting between hearts.’ So when you say ‘moyo’ to others, you are seeing how they are doing, and trying to connect to their hearts.”
* * * * * *
I found the idea of heart-to-heart connections really interesting coming from my father, one of the most repressed people I’ve ever met. His model is the main reason I am as repressed as I am today. All of the blatant, caring, sensitivity I exhibit comes from my mom, and the two have created this weird mix of a human who empathizes and likes to talk to others about their feelings, while largely staying quiet about personal matters of her own (that’s me).
Still, I like the idea of my father saying “moyo” to people, his own way of connecting with them. I believe that we all care about each other, and that it’s impossible not to love everyone else in some way.
I also believe that repression can slowly kill one, so this is one of the steps I’m taking to bring myself more fully into life. If you are an outsider reading my blog, you may not like it. It isn’t always happy; it’s often strange; it’s largely personal; and I don’t do a god job condensing my thoughts. I spend too much time policing what I’ll say in real life (for the sake of politeness, or to avoid awkwardness) to do it here, as well.
Now, with this post, we’re going public.