A whatsapp exchange on my siblings’ chat group got me thinking about how I, we, and a good number of people I know, consider it taboo to say certain things that we believe is unlucky or a bad omen. Anything remotely related to dying is unmentionable. Equally off-limits are inferences to falling sick, losing jobs or money, or going to prison.  These unmentionables when mentioned are usually met with verbal reprimands. A disapproving look or a light smack if you happen to be physically accessible at the time of the infringement.

Last week, my siblings unleashed scoldings ranging from “Wash your mouth you little idiot”, “Yes, put Dettol and bleach you stupid boy” to “Wash your stupid mouth” following a comment by one of my brothers about dying from lack of sleep. He was in fact responding to another brother’s news story about a healthy and fit 40-something, who had died of heart failure, a likely consequence of prolonged sleep deprivation.

I understood the reason for the reaction. I come from a large family, four older sisters and two older brothers. We love each other, most of the time. We care for each other, all the time.  We have our share of squabbles and misunderstandings but the bottom line is we are family, and we become anxious and invariably lose our peace of mind when one of us is worryingly unwell or has a protracted problem. What more when the dreaded ‘d’ word is mentioned, and in this case, in bold print.

But I was also puzzled by the reaction and I wanted to make sense of it in my own head. Yes, me, Ms superstitious about just everything. I am working on it and I am trying very hard to wean myself off this leech-like obsession I inherited from my dad about ‘bad’ times in a day, and inauspicious dates and numbers. Never mind that for now.

Firstly, my mum and my siblings are insomniacs of varying levels. We don’t know the meaning of having eight well-rested hours of sleep each night. We are wanderers, who read, finish unfinished work, watch a bit of TV and drink Milo, in the hope of inducing sleep. Sleep is elusive. It is a luxury to us. Hence, this revelation about the ‘d’  word and not sleeping enough was, to me at least, good news primarily because we are all still alive and breathing despite miserably failing the prescribed sleep requirements.

Secondly, we are not going to die simply because we say we will or we write that we should have. We cannot possibly say, write or will ourselves into a tragic or sad situation.  Just like we cannot say, write or will ourselves into having good health and great fortune. And yet, the responses were resolute, as if shushing or telling off or as my friends would say ‘Seilo’ would make it better or at least, less bad. There are loads of articles about leveraging our mind, positive thinking, positive reinforcement, and the power of persuasion that are intended to enhance our lives. Can the same be said about negativity? If we say something enough times, bad or good, will it happen?

Thirdly, no there is no thirdly but I do remember a dream I had, when I was little, about losing my tooth. I was so afraid of the ramifications of that dream that I lived in absolute fear for a long while. I was so terrified that I couldn’t relate it to anyone in the family. In my young mind, I thought if I said it out aloud or mentioned it, it  would really happen. I cannot recollect for sure but I had heard or had been told that a dream about losing a tooth meant or represented losing a parent. The unmentionable ‘d’ word. How I wish I had Google to google then. It would have saved me so much anguish especially as there are so many different interpretations about this type of dream.

We actually have a family SOP (standard operating procedure) to damage control bad feelings and ward off evil eyes. We use it when any of us is under the weather or not feeling quite right for no apparent reason. The SOP requires a bit of salt to be placed in a paper towel or tissue. This is circled three times just above the head after which we spit, albeit sparingly, as it is not intended to drench or flood, into the salt, three times. The spat-on-salt, bar the paper towel/tissue, is then flushed down the kitchen sink but not before a few choice words denouncing all things bad and evil. There is a more elaborate version that includes dried chillies and fire, which we don’t use anymore. Usually, my mum or an older sibling administers the circle-and-spit job. Does it work? I don’t know. It doesn’t hurt anyone, and we usually feel better for it.

We can’t control our destiny or fate.  When we love and we care; we feel, we act, we react and we respond,  and there are times when we don’t really follow logic or reason. We just do it.