DESPERATION AND AGGRESSION: TWIN SIBLINGS RAISED BY FEAR
The Tiv saying “Mhange hemben tyegh ki shwa” literally means desperation breaks the pot of sesame seeds.
Desperation announces itself early. It arrives before it is invited, sits at the head of the table, and starts explaining its importance to people still checking the guest list.
Aggression arrives shortly after, kicking the door open, demanding respect, and wondering aloud why everyone looks uncomfortable.
Both believe they are forces to be reckoned with. In reality, they are warnings.
Desperation is allergic to silence. It fills every pause with panic, every gap with excuses, and every doubt with unnecessary bravado. It believes urgency is intelligence and that repetition turns falsehood into truth. When ignored, it panics. When questioned, it pleads. When cornered, it calls the fire brigade.
Aggression, by contrast, has never met a situation it didn’t want to dominate. It does not listen; it waits to speak louder. It does not persuade; it overwhelms. Every raised eyebrow is “disrespect,” every disagreement a personal attack. It confuses fear-induced compliance with admiration, and frames the resulting loneliness as “discipline.”
SETTING THE RECORD STRAIGHT: GOV ORTOM DID NOT NEGLECT IHYAREV
Put the two together and you have a masterclass in self-sabotage.
Desperation sells too hard. Aggression scares too much. One begs to be loved; the other insists on being obeyed. Neither understands that people choose neither beggars nor bullies, they avoid them.
The desperate promise the moon and deliver an apology. The aggressive break the telescope and insist the sky is closer than it is. Both insist the problem is everyone else.
They mistake noise for relevance, haste for purpose, and intimidation for strength. They believe the world owes them attention, and when it doesn’t, they raise their voices, quicken their steps, and embarrass themselves at higher speeds.
And here lies the punchline:
Desperation and aggression are not strategies. They are symptoms.
Symptoms of fear.
Fear of being overlooked.
Fear of being challenged.
Fear of not being enough.
So they shout. They rush. They threaten. They cling. They perform.
And when the curtain finally falls, they are alone on stage, sweaty, hoarse, and applauding themselves, while the audience has long stepped outside for fresh air.
Because desperation does not impress. Aggression does not command.
They only succeed at one thing: Making exit doors very easy to find.
