ON SARCASM AND SATIRE, WHAT DO I REALLY THINK?

 

Sarcasm and satire are my nosy neighbors and sassy best friends. When Chizaram, my overbearingly intrusive neighbor sees me struggling with my doorknob, a doorknob I spoilt and lazily forgot to call the carpenter to fix, she says, “hey! can I help?” and with relief in my heart I say, “yes please, I’d like that.” She looks at me, shrugs with indifference, and then walks away smirking, leaving me at the mercy and disappointment of a request I did not make. 

Chizaram once asked me whether the doctors were in need of more patients to fill up the empty hospital beds in the emergency ward because I left my gas cooker on and dozed off.

When I sang Blackbird by Nina Simone in my cracked rat-like pitch, she told me that Nina would be quaking at the awesomeness of my sonority. I do not know if I like Chizaram or not; maybe I like her a little because she made fun of our landlord’s big belly in front of everyone after he increased our rent. Or maybe not, but Chizaram is a necessary evil. 

When Ada sees me struggling with the doorknob, she tells me that the carpenter is not disabled, and the last time she checked, I didn’t have a degree in carpentry. When I doze off with my gas on, she tells me that crying is not my mother's favorite pastime, and my apartment will not mourn my departure to the great beyond. 

 When I sing Blackbird, Ada tells me to reduce my voice before Nina Simone loses her fan base; she says that she hopes the landlord’s bulgy belly is for charity. 

One time I flouted the traffic rules and I drove on the double lane. I was apprehended by the Police, and Ada came to bail me. I told her that a Public officer defaulted too, but the Policeman greeted him with a grin and flagged me down instead. She looked at me with tired eyes and said,  “all animals are equal, but some are more equal than others.” 

I like Chizaram a lot. Some people don’t get her, but I do. I guess that’s why we are besties after all. 

I feel that both sarcasm and satire are important parts of humor and is necessary to spice up any form of writing, but I don’t always like to explain myself, and you have to explain sarcasm sometimes. You have to define your intention, you must explain sometimes that it is not out of spite, that you do not mean to be rude. Sometimes, you have to say to the person to whom you are being sarcastic, “can't you take a joke?” This happens a lot with sarcasm, but with satire, it's like bleach. It washes off the dirt from the surfaces, it enables the scales to fall from many eyes; it is a wakeup call – quite unexplainable. And like Elnathan John says, “never ever explain satire.