Despite my general enthusiasm for things digital, as someone who grew up during a more manual era, there are still certain analogue ways that I honestly miss a little.
For instance, I am not very happy about the idea that, in theory, I am available to everyone at any time. When I do not want to be within constant reach, I have to practise what seems like deception. I do this by switching my various apps and devices to indicate that I am offline, when in fact, all I am doing is hiding behind the curtain.
Having to turn off push notifications and disable alerts for emails and social media to prevent constant interruptions simply feels like a lot of work when I am not in the mood.
As the singer Lauryn Hill is reputed to have said, reality is easy; it is deception that is the hard work. In the context of trying to hide online, one wants to be invisible to some people but visible to others, and this involves activity that is mentally taxing and requires constant effort to keep pace with the truth, just so you know where you are.
The blue ticks and last seen messages will give your game away unless you are some sort of tech geek who knows all the ways to avoid being at home to people.
More often these days, I question whether the benefits of technology outweigh the costs, and what would happen if I made choices based on what serves my interests best. Would the world really come to a crashing halt? Would life as we know it be so disrupted that it never recovered?
When I was in my 20s and even into my early 30s, when I left my flat, I could not be reached on the telephone, by email or even by fax. If you really had to see me in person, you had to trek to wherever I lived at the time and take the chance that I would be home and in the mood to see you.
I remember at one address, my bed was positioned next to the louvre windows, which were right above my front door. So if I was in bed reading or just lying around and not feeling sociable, I could quietly choose to be silent until you left.
Of course, if I was not receiving callers, I would have to listen to music on earphones, but it was a small price to pay. At that time, I also had the great good fortune to live at the bottom of a very steep hill, which was in itself a deterrent to cold-calling visitors unless they had vehicular transport.
Now you can just video call me if you really want to, although here is a word to the wise: Unless we have previously arranged such a call, do not waste your time calling me in this way, I will not reply.
Of course, this being out of contact is a two-way street. For instance, whenever I am in Nairobi, I use a particular e-hailing service for transportation and a couple of food delivery options.
For whatever reason, the particular digital services I use in Nairobi are not available here in Malindi, although other e-hailing and food delivery options, including apps and local services, are.
However, because the algorithms on the services I use in Nairobi cannot seem to figure out that I am elsewhere in the country, they insist on sending me these emails and text messages like a disbelieving jilted lover.
Messages with taglines such as “Do not leave things this way” and cries such as “Give us one last chance and we shall give you a free delivery” are designed to draw you back in but simply sound desperate.
When I tried to reply and explain that it was their fault, the emails and SMS messages bounced back, basically stating that replies were not supported. They will claim that this practice is used to prevent an overwhelming volume of responses and direct communications to specific, monitored channels.
Talk about a one-way relationship that lays all the guilt at the client’s feet.
