Would You Rather Be Deaf or Blind?

Our housemate/coworker Jonny, the goofy and vivacious Argentian, is currently reading a Spanish novel about a world in which everyone goes blind, which provoked a debate during cleaning this morning about which sense would suck the most to lose. Specifically, Jen and Jonny went around asking everyone which they would rather be, blind or deaf, with everyone answering deaf except for Jen.*

Jonny decided an experiment was in order. One day, we’d all go blindfolded; the next day, everyone would block their ears. So today, as the last load of laundry dinged its end, when all of the beds were made, the bathrooms cleaned, the kitchen mopped, Jen gathered up a collection of scarves from our room and we all tied them around our heads. We were suddenly a room of the blind.

It lasted an hour (at least for Jen and I it did, as we were the last ones to hang on.) Folding the last load of laundry and hanging it out on the line became a fascinatingly difficult task. I felt wildly triumphant when I got my first clothespin on. Afterwards we all managed, slowly, and feeling the handrail, to make our way up the stairs and into the office for coffee time, where Jack informed us that someone needed to go for biscuits.

“I’ll go!” Jonny said.

“I’ll come,” Lewis added, “But we need a guide.”

“Yeah, Holly, you’re not blindfolded, right?” I asked. “Come with us and we’ll all go.”

So Holly, laughing, led Jonny, Lewis, and I out of the office, down the stairs, down the long driveway, and through town to the grocery store. The task was made more difficult by the fact that Holly, a Peruvian and native Spanish speaker, had her lefts and rights confused, so that she would yell, “Lewis! Left!” and he’d plow head first into the wall of a building he’d been getting close to. But eventually, slightly bruised, we made it to Four Square, the closest mini supermarket. Deciding that the clumsy train we’d been traveling in would be dangerous to the shelf displays, Holly left Jonny, Lewis, and I in a shy huddle near the door. “Stay here,” she said firmly, and we heard her footsteps walking away.

It’s amazing how timid you feel when you can’t see anything. We stayed very still, nervously waving our arms about at any nearby sound. Already things seemed louder than usual; the world had become a sea of scents and sounds. We could smell the bakery next door, the perfume of every woman in the store.

Finally Holly came back. “I have the biscuits,” she proclaimed. “Ready to go?”

“Let’s try to find our way out by ourselves,” Jonny suggested, and gamely moved away from Lewis and I. A moment later, we heard a scuffle. “Excuse me,” said a deep, old man voice. Jonny slid back to the huddle. “That’s not the way,” he whispered.

“I’ll pay,” Holly said. “Just wait for me, okay?”

We made our way back eventually, running nervously across what Holly told us was the street, feeling barefoot over the grass, gingerly walking up the stairs, finding empty chairs around the coffee table. After pouring our coffees though, and scooping biscuits from the bag, we took our scarves off one by one. Jen and I were last to give in, but finally the desire to see was too much. When we pulled them down, the sunlight, even today, which is hazy and rainy, was painful and almost as blinding as the scarves had been.

“Ahhh,” we cried, holding up our hands. “It’s horrible.”

Our eyes adjusted, though, and we felt the simple delightful convenience of being able to reach exactly to whatever we wanted and look into the eyes of who we were speaking to.

Tomorrow: we’re all deaf.



*Sight and hearing are always the senses that seem the worst to lose, and the ones everyone is most afraid of lacking, but I think it’s just because they’re the ones human tend to lose more often. They seem worse because losing them seems so scarily possible. Imagine a world without being able to feel a clean silk sheet or someone’s hand in yours, or a world where everything you put in your mouth tasted like air. It would be horrible. Curiously, our English friend here, Dan, does not have a sense of smell. He’s the one who doesn’t like showers, remember, and when we go into his room we almost puke, while he finds nothing wrong with it. He was born without being able to smell. He likes spicy food and doesn’t care if he buys girl or guy deodorant or shampoo.