When Things Give You Comfort

They say things don’t make good gifts. If you want to make someone happy, give them an experience.

During the current Covid-19 quarantine, where I have been isolated from friends and family for more than 2 months now, I have discovered that this is, in fact, not true. In the midst of my aloneness, it is the things that were given to me by others that have staved off loneliness and given me companionable solace.

A small oil painting hangs from my living room wall, given to me by my friends Sam and Alex. It depicts an African man and woman walking over a bridge, a full river flowing beneath them. The vibrant blues, greens and oranges immediately transport me to Abidjan and Assinie, where I spent many sunny days, cheer and laughter sounding out from all corners. Like the bubbling river, my old friendship with Sam and Alex rippled out into new ones; I close my eyes and I see myself among a crowd of rambunctious uncles, aunties, nephews, and nieces. I see people that became my own and, as I think of them now, become my own.

In the kitchen, I pull out the pressure cooker to cook rice and lentils. It is a steel container with a black handle. It sits atop my counter, motionless, and yet, as I look at it, I see a shop in a small neighbourhood take form, and there is my mother arguing with the shopkeeper. She berates him because he isn’t showing us all options. This one is too big, doesn’t he have something smaller? He must have, can he please go and check at the back of the store. Hah, see, she says, triumphantly, when he returns, I knew you had more varieties. This will do, she declares, eyeing one that is small enough but not too small for my needs. She turns to me for affirmation, I shrug indifferently. Now, however, as the whistle blows for the fourth time and I turn off the stove, I gaze upon it fondly. I feel my mother next to me.

Things are not just things. They are vessels of our memories. Within the physical limits of their shapes, they carry unbounded remembrances – the smells and sounds in the air when they came into my possession, the hug that accompanied their transfer from one to the other, the instructions given with equal measure of love and sternness, on how to use them correctly. A thing can make boundaries of space and time melt away. I have found that it can fill empty rooms and infuse melodious voices that make the silence less oppressive.

This is a strange time we are living in. I have never been separated from my loved ones for so long or in this way. I miss my family and my friends, and am waiting eagerly for the day I can see them in person and sit next to them, arm in arm, share the same food, and feel their loving embrace. Till then, it is the things they gifted me that will comfort me. For this, I am grateful.