The blind man’s party

I spend about 70 percent of my time in the Garapan area. Of that time, I spend another 70 percent in my house, and more specifically, my kitchen, my reading chair, and my bed. While in my kitchen, my reading chair, or my bed, I strive to avoid obscenely large utility bills by keeping the windows open and the air conditioning unit unplugged. My distaste for utility bills has also prevented the introduction of a television into my home life. This absence of visual distraction, combined with open windows, has imposed an unexpected and absorbing circumstance on my life: I spend 49 percent of my time here on Earth as a captive to the sounds of Garapan. This means that my auditory senses are often fully engaged, and my mind is free to fully process the noises of Saipan’s busiest enclave. I am blind.

Now, the unsuspecting reader might assume that I’m subject to an unpleasant cacophony generated by automobile motors, socially inept dogs, and the gentle whispers of Gangnam Style. In reality, however, a more intriguing soundscape meanders through my house. Sometimes the neighbors break into song. Sometimes the birds do as well. Sometimes thunder mixes with thick raindrops and the consequences of a rented karaoke machine. On Sunday, Sept. 28, 2014, my ears were greeted by the familiar tune of political rhetoric, exploding through an overly-ambitious sound system. Coincidentally I tend to be blind to partisan politics and biased groupthink.

On Sunday, as hyperbole washed over my neighborhood in successive waves, I could not help but feel a little bit uneasy. I was a blind man listening to a mix-tape of excited speeches and popular radio anthems, yet try as I might I could garner no significance or meaning from the noise. That’s all it was—noise. I understand that those individuals that contributed to the noise certainly hear music, but perhaps there is a large portion of our population that simply cannot find a melody in it. As November approaches there will be noise in growing abundance. What do these sounds contribute to the world? What do they offer during their passage through the windows of my house? Is there a more sincere and effective medium to distribute our politics with?

The reason I’ve asked the humble publishers of CNMI media to expose this roundabout rant is not to subject the reader to a personal ideology or half-baked solution. Rather, I propose a challenge to all those with a vested interest in local politics. Given that the recycled din of partisan politics won’t make a difference to the blind, dare yourselves to reach this broader audience through the quiet demonstration of ideas and action.

Sometimes, late at night or early in the morning, I hear the subtle splash of a car tire rolling through a rain-filled pothole on my street. Imagine what support you’d inspire in a blind man if you cut down your roadside campaign sign and patched that pothole with it.

Clark Griswold
Garapan, Saipan