‘Menace’ of social media

I am bothered by something you might consider insubstantial.  But I guess talking about it will make me feel better. Lies! Social media lies!  Why at all can't some people be sincere with their comments on social media?  Eh? 

Or is it that they don’t want to offend their friends or colleagues?  But a spade should be called a spade?  Honestly …!

Someone posts a photo of a hair-do they think they’ve done to draw attention.  It’s not nice.  Yet you find comments like, “go girl!” “This is trendy”.  “Looking mmmwa”. “Beautifully awesome”.  I could go on and on.  Why do people do that?    

I belong to a host of Whatsapp groups: kindergarten mates, primary school mates, year group from secondary school, university year group, women’s fellowship, area association, and a few more others.  

In fact, I am considering leaving about four of them because the rate at which my bundled data depletes with speed, if care isn’t taken, my monthly expenses on phone cards alone will take a greater part of my entire budget.  

Some group members send so many videos and photos to the platform. My inquisitive nature doesn’t allow me to download them.  Annoyingly, some posts don’t even edify me.  

I had to unceremoniously leave one such group a few weeks ago. Some of the males were posting obscene stuff and photographs, which could roam through one’s fancy for days.  Why do some people do that?  For goodness sake, we are all adults and have to be circumspect what we post out there. 

I could have actually chosen to give myself a bit of time before finally leaving the group, but just when I had decided to, someone who was supposed to be mourning his father, posted photographs of the deceased being brought out of the morgue.

That is not all, there were pictures of the deceased being dressed up by the undertaker, being laid in his casket, and a final photograph of how his dear father finally looked like at the pre-viewing stage.  Huh, did I hear you exclaim, “ooooh!” That was just the expression I made when I sighted the shots.

The whole discovery on my phone took me by surprise.  My data had been off till that Saturday afternoon.  I noticed a lot of photographs downloading with speed as soon as I turned it on. 

Curious, I sat properly to take a good look at them, only to find those forlorn images which depicted the end of man.  Of what use were those to all 32 of us on the WhatsApp platform?  Did no one respect the dead anymore?  

Was it an achievement to show the world what happened from the mortuary all the way to the casket level?  I can’t tell what camera he used in taking those graphic photographs … the pictures were so real, neat and clear, it gave the feeling of the happenings in the phone, being so close to their viewer.  

Then I asked myself, were there no relatives around to stop him from taking those gloomy photos?  Agh, did he have no respect for his father’s celebrated state?   

Angry at the grieving gentleman, I, with speed and alacrity began to delete all eight horrific photographs.  In my edginess to clear the pictures off before Naa Atswei could accidentally lay hands on them, my phone hanged and wouldn’t respond to any command on its keys. 

The pictures continued to stare in my face as though I had deliberately commanded them to pause from rolling. 

Naa Atswei.  Every now and then, she goes to my gallery to view photos.  I don’t even know how she discovered how to get there.  Kids of today.  Because of her I am very very careful what I leave as an item of my gallery. 

Swiftly, I switched off my phone for a great restart, hoping to get the nasty photos out of the way.  Hooooh, as soon as I clicked the Whatsapp icon, they took their rightful position.  I can’t explain my anger that afternoon.  

Then an idea dropped in my head – dismantle your phone and restart to see if it would work.  I did just that and assembled the phone once again. The pictures came right back. That was when I went bonkers and phoned the Group Administrator to remove me from the group else I leave.  

Whether he forgot to grant my request, or whether it was deliberate, I cannot tell.  Two hours and a half after my phone had resumed normalcy, I was still a member of the group.  Without a word, I left and warned the Administrator never to put me back on again. 

I later heard that some members thought I was being too petty, complaining about the images posted.  But tell me what I did wrong. Were those pictures wholesome for public consumption?  

Did the poster, who was supposed to be in a state of immense grief, think he could engage my sympathy via that means?  No way! Couldn’t he have been a bit more sensitive?  His own father?  How?

And did I not get angry at how someone in that same group, prior to the “mournful photo postings”, forwarded gory photographs of an accident that occurred in the Ashanti Region?  Very graphic images; depression-invoking images. Whatever they do that for, I don’t know! 

Oh, see how this “mourning gentleman” has made me drift from my day’s conversation.  I was actually going to tell you about how someone posted to one of my WhatsApp Groups, a photograph taken in his bathroom. Maybe I would have to tell you about that next week. Enjoy your weekend.