Have you ever tasted a word? Not in a weird-chewing-on-a-dictionary kind of way, but literally tasted it—like the name “Nigel” giving you a hint of baked beans, or hearing a violin note and seeing a swirl of orange in your mind’s eye? If you’re nodding along, then congratulations: you might just have synaesthesia. And even if you haven’t had the pleasure of experiencing it, the whole phenomenon is as fascinating as it is baffling.
Synaesthesia is basically when the wires in your brain decide to throw a party and everyone’s invited. It’s what happens when stimulation of one sense (like hearing) involuntarily triggers another (like seeing colour). Sounds dramatic, but it’s surprisingly common—at least one in 2,000 people experience some form of it. Though if you ask around, you’ll probably find a few friends quietly admitting they’ve always seen Wednesdays as lime green or thought the number 4 is a bit of a moody cow.
And that’s just the beginning. There are loads of different types. Grapheme-colour synaesthesia is one of the most well-known—where letters and numbers are inherently coloured in your mind. Then there’s chromesthesia, where sounds have colours. Some people even feel shapes when they taste things. Imagine biting into a strawberry and getting a clear sense of a perfect hexagon. That’s a Tuesday for some people.
We tend to think of the senses as polite little compartments—sight in one box, sound in another—but for people with synaesthesia, those compartments come with leaky walls. It’s not a disorder or a defect; it’s just a different way the brain interprets sensory information. And for many, it’s not just harmless—it’s downright enjoyable. A private, personal firework show. Like living in a Technicolour musical, but only in your head.
Here in South Africa, synaesthesia doesn’t come up in everyday conversation all that often. We’re too busy navigating loadshedding schedules and debating whether Gatsby or bunny chow is the superior meal (trick question: they’re both perfect). But maybe it should. Because synaesthesia adds a curious layer to how people experience art, music, language—even people’s names. And in a country as rich in sound, texture, and cultural fusion as ours, that kind of neurological quirk fits right in.
Imagine hearing Brenda Fassie and seeing bursts of electric blue and silver every time she hits a high note. Or watching a Proteas match and feeling an odd tingling whenever the scoreboard changes. Or tasting peppermint every time someone says “eish.” Okay, maybe not ideal in every scenario, but it’s a level of sensory depth that most of us can’t even fathom.
There’s even some evidence to suggest that synaesthesia might give people creative advantages. Writers, artists, musicians—many have spoken about it being the secret sauce behind their work. It’s not hard to see why. If you’re experiencing the world in a multi-sensory mash-up, of course you’re going to come up with ideas that no one else would dream of. It’s like brainstorming with a kaleidoscope.
And while scientists still haven’t pinned down exactly what causes synaesthesia, the leading theories point to either increased neural connectivity (those aforementioned leaky walls between senses), or a failure to suppress the connections that most of us outgrow in early development. Basically, everyone’s brain starts out with a bit of synaesthesia, but most of us grow out of it—except for the lucky few whose minds keep the party going.
It’s not all rainbows and symphonies, though. Some people with synaesthesia find it distracting or overwhelming, especially if they weren’t aware it had a name and thought they were just a bit odd. But learning what it is can be a bit of a lightbulb moment. Suddenly all those quirks make sense. Your brain isn’t broken—it’s just being a bit extra.
There’s a certain charm in how unpredictable it is, too. Two people with the same type of synaesthesia won’t necessarily experience things the same way. Your red might be someone else’s turquoise. One person’s tasty word could be someone else’s auditory migraine. It’s subjective, intimate, and impossible to replicate. Which, let’s be honest, makes it quite special.
If you’re reading this and thinking, “Hold on, I’ve always thought the number 7 was yellow and Thursdays felt like velvet,” you might want to look into it. Not in a clinical, see-a-neurologist kind of way—just out of curiosity. There are even online tests and communities where synaesthetes (yes, that’s the word) share their experiences and compare notes. You’ll be amazed how validating it is to find out you’re not alone in thinking your teacher’s voice tasted faintly of marmite.
And if you’re not a synaesthete, maybe just take a moment to appreciate how strange and wonderful the human brain is. It’s a lump of grey jelly with the ability to turn numbers into flavours and smells into sounds. Honestly, that’s a party trick worth celebrating.
So next time someone tells you they see music or smell words, don’t dismiss it as fantasy. It might just be synaesthesia doing its thing. And in a world that can feel relentlessly dull and grey, that bit of extra sensory sparkle is nothing short of magic.
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