Cultivating curiosity

Credit: preschoolnation.org

By Jina S. Bazzar

As I sit here pondering what to write, rain drenching my face, the salt of the ocean stinging my eye, the… Wait, no, no. There’s no rain in the summers here in Palestine. We have, however, blistering hot, very dry conditions. The sky is clear, the birds are singing, the flowers are blooming. It’s the perfect time for beach vacations, the gentle lap of soothing waves, the shade of swaying frond leaves, the call of seagulls. Wait, there are no beaches on this side of the wall either.

Okay, let’s try again… it’s the perfect time for picnics, sightseeing, fruit picking, doing dishes, house chores, mosquito baiting, and there are no F-16 bombings nearby, no riots, nor any sound of gunfire today. (Sorry, had to drop that last part in. You know, in case you wondered when you saw Palestine mentioned above.)

Mmmm, but where was I?

Oh yes, as I sit here pondering what to write, sweat dripping down my face, mosquitoes buzzing in my ears, I consider which trending topic to tackle: global warming, war, poverty, pandemic, politics…but I want none of those.

Everywhere you click on the net, every channel you flip on TV, people are discussing these same things.

Have we lost the capacity to discuss other topics, I wonder, to feel something else aside from negative emotions?

The thought ricocheted in my mind, reminding me of a comment someone made once, about there being no new inventions that haven’t been invented, that anything new is simply an expansion on old creations, or an idea taken from a speculative book or movie.

I suppose to an extent the comment was true. But then, there are no new inventions – until there are. This scientist/genius is then revered for their creation, as if out of 7.9 billion people, they are uniquely different.

But are they, really?

What causes people to stop believing, never consider crossing beyond the borders of their minds?

I think this limitation starts at a very young age, when curiosity is smothered with a ready answer.

Is this true?

I have no idea.

But, bear with me as I make my point.

I am a mother of three. As with most parents, my firstborn was an experiment in terror and patience, while the second was more tempered. What I felt didn’t work for the first, I withheld from the second while trying new things. The third, however, is a culmination of my experience with the older two.

The two oldest are curious, the average kind that is satisfied with whatever answer they’re given, regardless if the answer is something they understand or not. The third, however, isn’t so easily placated. An answer always has loops and hoops and holes to be explored. A simple word with no double meaning can be taken in various ways; a simple, proven fact of nature is no longer easy to explain.

Yes, his curiosity and need to explore and discover has been the cause for much heart palpitation, white hair, and hand-on-the-mouth-oh-my-God-don’t-let-me-laugh-in-his-face moments. But his active mind opened mine to the fact that many parents simply dish out ready answers to shut children up (for whatever reason) while at the same time discouraging them to ask more, to explore more. “I don’t know.” Or “because it is,” are two ready answers people give to discourage lengthy conversations. In school, teachers say, “Not now, Jane.” Or “Wait for your turn.” Or “Don’t interrupt,” until a time, or grade, when children no longer feel the need to raise a hand and ask a question that is loosely related to their study.

We bind their curiosity by shutting their minds and their potential with all the can’t, don’t, and shouldn’t walls, layering them so thick and deep, by the time they’re grown-ups, all that bright curiosity they could have used to see beyond the horizon got snuffed out.

Inventors, in my opinion, are simply those children who grew up to see possibilities without expected limits.

We, the human race, have been conditioned – by parents, teachers, news, and life — to think a certain way, to choose specific paths. You can say we’ve been herded through a handful of acceptable methods, discarding everything else as wrong. People who choose the “wrong” paths are the minorities of today’s society, the ones clambering for equality in diversity, race, ethnicity, capability, sexual orientation.

I have a personal experience with expectations, as well as those perceived methods to live, and it’s not by way of children.

I became blind around my early twenties due to a chronic disease. I received no help coping, no assistance, because it never occurred to me and mine to go looking for it. Pity and sympathy were hard pills to swallow, and I realized soon enough that there was nothing down in despair but agony and sadness – and it wasn’t my place.

I taught myself to care for my son, myself, my home. For over a dozen years, I’ve thrived to be as independent as I could be, honing my remaining senses, tuning them to my surroundings. Inside my home, I need zero help – not for cleaning, not for cooking, not for raising my children and all those myriad things a person at home needs.

It was only recently that I joined a group for blind people. Despite all I’ve learned from them, I realized my lack of aid transitioning from the sighted world to the blind helped me be more independent, to take risks when others are warned not to.

I’m not saying I had an easy time adapting, only that I adapted better.

But I grew unencumbered by the can’t and don’t and shouldn’ts, and I’m more independent in my life than most people in the group, who attended blind school for years, because I followed no set of rules and tested my limits on my own.

Yes, I have my accidents – from the painful to the humorous, to the frustrating and infuriating and the oh-so-embarrassing, but hey, so do sighted people.

Jina S. Bazzar

Jina S. Bazzar is a Palestinian author, born and raised in Brazil. Like most writers, her love of books began at a young age. Unlike most writers, she never aspired to become one. It was only years after she became blind that she tried her hand at writing, giving voice to all the wild, rambling thoughts in her mind. She now lives in Palestine with her family, taking inspiration from the smallest things in life. When she’s not writing or networking on social media, you can find her in the kitchen, baking while listening to (often very loud) music.

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Editor’s note: I met Jina by chance in December after she left a comment on a book review I posted on my blog. Jina is a writer of fantasy fiction, as well as a wife and mother. She lives in a village in the West Bank, and I’ve learned so much from her about the challenges facing the Palestinian people. Through our e-mails, I’ve enjoyed her sense of humor and our ongoing dialogue about family, food, music, books and international issues. Also, turns out we both love Snickers.

Tomorrow: The sighs of Texas | Michael Granberry