There\u2019s a monkey on my shoulder, and his name is Disfear Dube. There, I said it. I expect I\u2019d better elaborate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
First, the monkey. This creature in its many guises provides lots of imagery for our lives, not all of it compatible with the rest. During my college theater days, we spoke of the \u201cmonkey\u201d that sat on your shoulder during intense performances and reminded you that what you were emoting about was not actually real life, and not to get too carried away. Some of my friends routinely banished their monkeys and got scarily intense, whereas mine was big and strong and tried at every turn to rob me of my spontaneity. The actual phrase \u201ca monkey on my back\u201d means that one is tormented by something that nobody can see but that nonetheless has incredible life-disrupting power.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I must say also, however, that some monkeys learn to become able-bodied assistance for disabled people, perhaps sitting on their human\u2019s shoulder to offer snacks or reading material. Other monkeys are simply playful and cute (at least that\u2019s how the YouTube videos make them look). And let us not forget that monkeys are pretty much our first cousins, paleologically speaking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My point is that, like all creatures that walk, creep or swim this earth, monkeys are a jumble of conflicting qualities, with a life force that defies neat packaging.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now let us move on to the strange words. These words first came across my radar in the following magnificent cat name, as coined by my sisters Mary and Laura sometime in the 1960\u2019s: Sad Sack Disfear Dube Peatfire Soup\u2019s On. Yes, that\u2019s correct. I have no doubt there was much hilarity during the formative process of this particular feline handle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I\u2019ll tackle \u201cDube\u201d first. Sister Laura explained to us that as children we read a story in which there was a pet monkey named Dube. Later Mary elaborated to say that the story in question was one of the \u201cNomusa\u201d stories in which a young village girl discovered the many wonders of the modern world. I remember Nomusa, and I also recall that her mother was named Buselapi, which to us sounded like \u201cBoo-Slappy.\u201d We found that funny, as we did many things.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I digress. Nomusa had a monkey friend named Dube. Apparently.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And now, on to \u201cDisfear.\u201d Laura, serious minded child that she was, coined it to mean the opposite of fear, as in \u201cI dis-fear this large monkey that is chasing me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But here\u2019s the weird part. This word has obviously undergone some parallel evolution, because when I googled it I found a reference to a Swedish rock band from the early 1990\u2019s named, you guessed it, \u201cDisfear.\u201d* The article further stated that the word\u2019s etymology is uncertain, but that it is probably related to the word fear. OK, I\u2019ll buy that. Perhaps the etymology is uncertain because my modest sister has chosen not to stand up and claim credit for introducing this fascinating word into our shared lexicon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I\u2019ve heard it said that courage is not the absence of fear, but the choice to act and stay strong in the face of that fear. With Laura\u2019s permission, I hereby impart to the word \u201cDisfear\u201d the following meaning: strength and determination in the face of knee-buckling terror.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Come, friend Disfear Dube, sit here by my ear and keep me strong. We shall tackle this wild and precious life** together.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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For your further edification:<\/p>\n\n\n\n