To tell the truth

We are in the middle of learning about the country of Senegal in all of my French classes. I have a two-week unit planned that includes dancing, bartering for goods and a discussion of photos that I took while I was there in 2005. Today, we discussed Senegalese proverbs. These are centuries old and written in Wolof, the language that was present in Senegal even before the colonization by the French. One such proverb states: "Lies that build are better than truths that destroy." This is an interesting topic of debate. Is it always better to tell the truth? Some people say that we should tell the truth at all cost. Others say that there are moments when lying is the better option. What do you think?

One of my students eagerly raised his hand to comment on this proverb. He said that he went to Homecoming this year with a girl he really liked. However, at the dance, she asked him if she was his first choice. He, being truthful, told her that she was actually the second girl he asked, though he was very excited to be with her. This was not a good answer for her. She shunned him at the dance and hasn't spoken with him since. Because he was so hurt by this experience, he now feels that it is often better and easier to lie. Is it?

I remember when I was a student at BYU, I was asked on a date by a boy to go to dinner and play board games. (He was actually required to take a girl on a date that weekend for his Preparing for Celestial Marriage class, a fact I was not aware of until later). I thought that the date was all right, even though he cornered me with a long list of personal questions during dinner, making me feel I was getting interviewed for a job or something. As he dropped me off at the doorstep that night, he volunteered, "Thanks for coming. I must have invited ten girls before you on the date tonight and none of them could go. I was really out of options until I got to you." Wow. Brutal unsolicited honesty. I felt terrific as I got home from that date, let me tell you.

A final example that comes to mind happened just last month. My mom loves signing me up to attend cooking and teacher classes with her all the time. Usually they are pretty fun and I do like spending time with my mom. One of her favorite new projects is one where we cook for the actors of the Hale Theater between their matinee and evening performances. We do this about once per play. The theater pays for all the food, but we are in charge of grocery shopping, cooking, serving anywhere from 60-150 people in an hour's time and cleaning it all up. She loves it, but I often feel stressed out and exhausted by the end. I do it to support my mom. This last dinner we cooked was particularly stressful. We started out the day by watching the 12:30 matinee of Zorro. We then had to race home to Lehi, pick up the rolls, cut up potatoes, make meatballs and get a salad thrown together so that we could be back up to the theater and serve it to the actors and staff by 6:00pm. The traffic on I-15 was crazy that night. My mom started panicking that we weren't going to have dinner ready in time. I picked up a knife, but it was dirty, so I ran to clean it in the sink. As I was scrubbing the knife under the running water, I accidentally slit my finger open. I barely had time to put on a band-aid, we were in such a time crunch. We raced and managed to get up there at 6:05. The lady in charge told us that we were late. The actors then told us that we dripped water all over the floor as we were washing strawberries. It wasn't until later that the maintenance worker discovered that the sink was actually leaking. It was the most stressful night I can remember. At the end of the night, my mom asked me what I thought of it all. I told her that it was horrible. I said that I felt like a slave and my finger was throbbing. I never wanted to do it again, I said. I fell asleep at her house in Lehi that night. When I walked down the stairs the next morning, I saw my mom was crying into her oatmeal. I had made her feel so bad. After apologizing, I reminded myself that people do not always need brutal honesty. Sometimes we just need to feel that somebody cares about us...

Which leads me to my next Senegalese proverb: "People are man's best medicine." I really like that one!