Some women are so wise. There is one who says that we need to learn how to receive compliments gracefully. This lovely woman has a habit of addressing complete strangers and complimenting them on their clothes, shoes, manners and even the way they look. It is not flattery on her part. But it is sincerely meant. I have been with her when she looked up at a woman approaching our table and simply told her, ‘You are very beautiful.’ The other person’s eyes widened in surprise because she is not used to strangers giving her such a compliment. But she mumbled, ‘Thanks so much’ and went away with a smile on her face. What a gift to send people on their way feeling good about themselves. But guess what? This complimenting woman says many of our people do not know how to accept compliments. In her own words, she remarks, ‘But our people na, if I say “I like your shirt” they’ll say, “oof, second hand” or “It’s an old one.” It’s annoying. I always tell my close friends to accept the compliment gracefully and gratefully.’ Very wise woman. I love her honesty.
People who put a smile on your face are surely a gift from heaven. They are gracious in themselves and they teach others to be the same. But the terrible awkwardness we all have where receiving compliments is concerned – where does that come from? Is it a fallout of our cultural teaching? Was there a belief that praising people was not good for them? We praise our children when they perform well at something. It’s good for them. Most cultures do that. It is much more beneficial to give praise when it is deserving, instead of criticism. There is enough of the critical spirit that children will encounter when they grow up and enter the world of adults. How can we protect them from the toxicity of criticism? Sometimes some people seem to have come into existence for the sole purpose of criticising others. Let us protect our young from such behaviour. Teach them to find worth and value in other people. Teach them to find things in people to compliment. It will be a good life lesson.
What we didn’t hear when we were young
We didn’t hear our elders say, ‘If others can do it, so can you.’ Instead, we heard, ‘Tephriemia are too clever. We can’t do what Tephriemia can do.’ Whether it was studies or business life, the Naga of our day believed he could not reach the same level as the plainsman. At school, the first two or three names of toppers in each class were Tephriemia. The students who understood Mathematics were Tephriemia. And so on. We subconsciously grew up with inferiority complexes thinking we could never understand Sciences, Algebra, Trigonometry or Engineering of any kind because we did not have Tephriemia brains. Not surprising that we never veered off our course in life and we never attempted to study the subjects that Tephriemia were good at. We were delimited by what we were told. I’m not saying some of us thereby failed to become great doctors and mathematicians. But it is about the can-do spirit that was missing in our youth and childhood. Never even heard of the phrase until really late in life :). So you ended up choosing the lower road to travel on. There is no one to blame. We simply did not know better back in the day. Our elders did not know better either. The only thing stopping us from doing as well as others is our mindsets. We defeat ourselves before we start. We come with the mindset that we cannot. Then how can we? We can do better than that.
When to avoid using the word ‘can’
An aside on the word ‘can’: During World War II, the Japanese were plucking outmen who could speak a bit of English to act as translators. In a western village, the Japanese rounded up the men and asked the ones who could speak English to step forward. The educated ones kept a low profile, pretending that they had never seen the inside of a book. The Japanese officer repeated his question, and was met with silence. Again. The men waited for their captors to release them. But the officer was not going to give up. He was also losing his patience. The tension was palpable. ‘For the last time, if anyone speaks English, step out here!’ he shouted. Suddenly a loin-cloth clad man stepped up to the officer. In highly accented English he proudly announced, ‘I can what you can.’ Of course, he was whisked away to spend the rest of the war running from one Japanese camp to the other, fleeing intensified Allied bombing and fearing he would never see his native village again. Sometimes you have to be careful what you can.
