Revolution In The Time Of Facebook Addiction – Part 4

There was no arguing with her. She set the rules. She had an air of authority, she was the boss. Other children had parents who argued. He had just his mother. She did not shout and drink like the head of other children's families. She would not come home late at night demanding that food be on the table. She was his only parent. The only one he had truly known. His father had disappeared during the troubles, the revolution that happened before this latest revolt brought on by Facebook addiction. He was never talked about. Nathan asked many questions about him: where is he, what does he look like, what does he do. His mother would raise her eyes as if in frustration, and tell him that she did not want to talk about him, and that it was best if Nathan forgot about him.

The other mothers called Nathan's mum, Doreen. In their culture, first names were only acceptable between adults. So the children referred to everyone other than themselves, by the prefix Uncle or Auntie, followed by their names. Doreen, as she was known to the grown ups, was a busy woman. She had a stall at the market, selling clothes that she had obtained from the wholesaler. They were cheap clothes, very cheap, and she did not make much money. Nathan's stall on the street where they lived helped to meet their needs for food and school fees and so on. The notion of Facebook addiction was unknown to them. They did not use machines, not so much anyway. Doreen had a sewing machine, an old one that had been given to her by a friend. She did not live in the world of Facebook and wizardry.

Doreen was bonded in situation and outlook to Muwena, whose husband had also left her with children to look after. Muwena’s husband had been no soldier of the revolution, nor a participant in the Facebook addiction revolt. He had decided, as men, with their pernicious gift of irresponsibility, are wont to do, that he would no longer be in his wife and children’s lives. He had found another woman, who lived on the other side of the city but with whom he constantly spoke, and dreamed, of a life abroad. There were little or no entanglements with her. She was much younger than his wife, still at the age where she was fascinated by the scope of possibilities, at the time before the burdensome truth becomes evident. She was a college student, with ambitions and intelligence. All the things that Martin saw lacking in his wife. Theirs had been a more traditional arrangement, between the elders in the village of Martin’s parents.