Archive for May, 2009

Vegetarian diaries

Vegetarians

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It’s been 26 days since I watched Earthlings and decided to go vegetarian. Progress thus far? Fine. I’ll ‘fess up. A week into the vegetarian life, I caved in to a prawn curry. Every single prawn was consumed with more than its weight in guilt. Why did I do it? I was going crazy for the texture of meat. The chewy feel of it. 

3 weeks into it, last weekend, I succumbed to a piece of beef from the stew that was beside all the vegetarian fare. Despite the images of cows being branded on their faces, or the depleted dairy cows being converted to hamburger meat… I consumed that piece of beef. My mouth rejoiced, but the rest of me was disapproving.

I’ve figured out (in another stunning re-invention of the wheel) that it’s about food texture (a good friend reliably informs me that infants and toddlers know this already). My jaw is going crazy for something ‘chewy’ to masticate, and it craves meat on some days, until  it’s fed mushroom steaks. Mushrooms can be nice and chewy, depending on how you cook ‘em. 

I’m slowly getting there. I looked cooked chicken, wing-to-eyeball, this afternoon and felt nothing. Aluta continua!

Another May…

So… another May is here. This one makes it my 3rd blog anniversary.
First couple of years were good blog years. This past year’s been a pain in the butt ‘cause I’ve lost a whole lot of umph. It’s been a gradual loss, and I suppose it all dumped onto this past year. After the continuing Kenyan fiasco, with the chaser of the pogroms in SA, it’s been a lotta difficult to get back onto the saddle, and quite honestly, I doubt that I’ll ever recover that earlier vibe/insouciance. Not to worry though, ‘cause it never ceases to amaze me how I grow and get wiser from one minute to the next…

So imagine how much wiser a year makes me!

Oh, how wise has it made me? Let’s see:

  1. I’ve had an outbreak of exes getting in touch. Lord only knows where they got my contacts, ‘cause I changed my name and country and outlook and everything, but I imagine I left them with information key enough to find me if they ever desired. The consensus was that although I appeared too free and opinionated at the time, I was actually (in their current states) “the one that got away”, and please could they get another chance?
  2. This, juxtaposed with my recently crystalized realization that I had kowtowed to way too many people, and it was time to let it rip, allow me to be me. So me being me said, “Thanks. Incredibly flattered (and not to mention vindicated). But no thanks”. I tell ya. Oh! when I remember how sad and torn apart I was that I was me, that I couldn’t be (even half decently) what they wanted me to be at that point in time… 
  3. Alas, there were also some no’s said to me (breathing a deep sigh of relief). Couple of crushes I had (yes, I like to put eggs in more than one basket…) declined my very heroic conclusion of what incredible synergy we could generate together. Disappointing, naturally. But great for me being me. And leaves the future, “kueupe”, or in the words of Natalie Beddingfield, “Unwritten”. Immensely exciting, but daunting. ‘Cause I would prefer for this next part of my life to be more conscious and thought through, unlike the reactive, defensive part I’m transiting out of. So I clearly have my work cut out, disposing of the habit of unconsciousness. But Oh Lord! When I think of how long it took me to actually understand life and love and humanity… and how whatever I understand now is but a mere fraction of what I’ll understand by the time my ticket gets punched. Incredible! Let’s see where this next part takes us…
  4. I’ll whisper a quick secret to you though (special confession to you wonly – as she shakes her head like a dukawallah in a bollywood flick) one of the crushes reminded me of what an incredible and emotional writer I could be. I look at some of those missives now and marvel at how lyrical and vibrant the passages are, as I recall how uninhibited it felt as my fingers flew over the keyboard, composing them. Wow! Life bees like that sometimes, and I’ve learnt to take a bow and let it be.
  5. So what do I now understand of life, love and the human condition? That your life is yours (I know, I know, Frankie already sang about it in ‘my way’). Never mind that folk tell you you’re too idealistic, unrealistic, have your head in the clouds, think you’re special, etc. Those are their issues. You know what you’re about, so go on and do your thing. Leave them to go crazy with their thing, and just because they sound so convinced that they’re right and you’re wrong, does not mean that you are. Just because they are prepared to completely compromise their souls and you are not, does not mean you’re an idiot, it just means you should feel empathy for them. But feeling empathy does not mean you have to deal with their negative auras. That’s why prayer and blessing were invented, you can pray for, and bless them from a distance, thus insulating yourself from their jacked up perspective of how ishtty or non-deliberate life is. I’ve been reading a bit of Victor Frankl (yes, yes, the ubiquitous (wo)Man’s search for meaning) , and like that he tells us it’s not about what you were put on this earth to do, but what you choose as your role on this earth. 
  6. A whole lot of folk are mad at me, that I haven’t followed what they consider the beaten path; that I’ve wasted my life, my time, haven’t honored what they see as the natural progression of life, etc. (or maybe they’re mad ‘cause I’m not a fellow inmate?) I would peel the pant fabric off one cheek and tell them to pucker up… but (sighs deeply) that would be oh! so! indecorous. So I need to do a figurative peeling of the pant fabric: be genuinely and incredibly happy with every one of my decisions thus far. And I am. Despite the hovering dark cloud of society’s expectations, I am happy thus far with the path I chose. And can’t wait to realize all else that I’ve chosen :)
  7. Aaah, you want to know why I’m even bothered with 6, when I already talked about 5?  ‘Tis the human condition to be so angst-ridden (not to be confused with “we are only human, not angels”… a line that’s used to justify all kinds of nonsense). One of the scripts in that perfect (human) software, is that you’re a ‘social’ being. I used to think that meant that you need to be around people, need people to validate you. Now I understand it as meaning that you are easily swayed by public opinion, you feel ill at ease being at the fringes of popular opinion, conventional wisdom. Even with perfect programs, it doesn’t hurt to be aware of the program’s weaknesses, and to steer clear of being so swayed by this socializing instinct that I continue to hail as Messiahs, people who show me, live, through their actions, that they are anything but. Which may not make sense, but provides the perfect segue to two of my favorite quotes. 
  8. The first is from the late great Randy Pausch. He left advice to his 2 year old daughter that in matters romance, pay no attention to what the guy says, only pay attention to his actions.  
  9. The second is one of my favorite Oprah insights. I used to watch Oprah way back when she was into ‘change your life television’… Anyway, one of the gems from that period in her past was the insight she brought via Maya Angelou (a woman whose memoirs have left me uncomfortably ambiguous about how I feel about them, but for whom I have great respect nonetheless, ‘cause she has had the generosity to share her experience of aging (as a black woman) with anyone who cares to hear it. Love her comments about how her right and left breasts were in competition to see which one would reach her (seated) lap first. Now there’s some straight up honesty! I figure that once you rob aging of the energy of denial and disappointment – and come to think of it, it is a total waste of time to be either, ‘cause like death and taxes, you so know that it’s a guarantee! – you’ll be able to do so much more with that diverted energy!) Yes, yes, back to that insight from Maya: “when people show you who they are, believe them! and believe them the first time!  Naturally, like with many things, I had to go and figure out this principle for myself, the hard way… So I finally believe a whole lot of people who showed me who they really were. Great, ‘cause it opens up my energy channels to new and beautiful things. Having dumped denial and “I know you’re better than this, you must be!” 
  10. I’ve learnt humility. And as with all lessons on humility, one must experience that whole eating crow process to really appreciate what it means to be humbled. So I have. Crow, even on its best day don’t taste so good. So I’m hoping the lessons remain embedded in the psyche… I do not want to do another round of eating crow.

And… Year 4? Onward and upward! Fighting those windmills and refusing a return to “sanity”.


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Earthlings


lisa_vegetarian[source]

 

 

Just after publishing downward dog post, I watched a documentary, Earthlings, on youtube. Wow. Talk about graphic footage. And the narrator justifies its graphic nature by saying that if one insists on having meat in their diet, they should not shy away from seeing how that meat gets to their table. 

 

I’ve watched the Peta videos on their website in an attempt to kick the flesh habit. It worked for a while, but I was back to nyama choma shortly thereafter. Earthlings is a whole other ball game. Only watch it if you would change the world and make it a better place. And if you have a heart that’s soft enough to be touched by cruelty to animals.

 

What we do to animals in the name of God giving us authority over all animals on earth, is JUST UNSPEAKABLE!  I’ve tried to justify it by saying that that goat, sheep, and ingokho over christmas cannot possibly fall into the realm of commercial farming, but that’s a moot point. We all were never habitual meat eaters traditionally. An animal was only sacrificed during important occasions (doubt the veracity of my argument? Go read ‘Things fall apart’ for the umpteenth time, and see the fixation on kola nuts and yams, vs. nyam chom or egusi soup). And we knew what occasions were important enough to permit blood-letting. And surely, the animal was asked for mercy before its throat was slit (basis of kosher- and halal-ism (essentially, mesma coisa), though I’d put my money on halal meat in Somalia being the ‘halal-est‘ ’cause those folk do.not.play! or compromise). Today, what exactly is the special occasion that justifies that nyama choma on a frequent basis?

 

The truest thing said in that documentary was that, “if slaughterhouses had glass walls, or if we had to personally kill the meat we consume, we’d all be vegetarian”. Not quite sure about that though, because the (clearly) hidden camera footage from those slaughter houses & hunts shows people who enjoy hurting defenseless animals. It’s not enough that the animals live in those conditions, they have to kick, throw, hit, prod and insult them! Ohhh and don’t even let me get started on the dolphins! So it begs the question, in the unlikely event that commercial animal farming stopped, where would these bloodthirsty chaps end up? And more than that, do they have families? Children, wives? How do they behave towards them, if they’re that cruel to defenseless animals? 

 

Quick overview of the video, animal exploitation by humans around 5 themes: 1. Pets (shows how, by not spaying your pets or by discarding them, you’re ensuring they are ‘put to sleep’ in INCREDIBLY inhumane ways, and disposed of in landfills – something which CSI, when they delve into landfills to find dead bodies, never show us), 2. Food (beef, pork, poultry (ducks for foie gras - which I regrettably, once enjoyed in a francophone country), seafood: fish, dolphins, whales), 3. Clothing (leather – I’m giving away my leather jacket ’cause I SO KNOW it’s Made in India!… shoes are made in China, which is no better… what to do, when leather shoes and belts are marks of qualidade?????? , fur – I was never going to buy anything fur-lined, since the WalMart scandal around dog fur-lining winter jackets in the ’90s), 4. Medical experiments (one word, UNSPEAKABLE!). I cannot tell you how many times I called “HEYZEUS” (translate from spanish, and doesn’t it kinda link modern christianity to Zeus, that Greek Almighty?) in the course of this particular segment, 5. Entertainment (Circuses, Zoos – thank the heavens I never made it round to the Jozi Zoo, Pony rides, Bullfighting, Rodeos, Hunting, Fishing).

 

The point of the documentary was that in our interactions with other ‘earthlings’ (sentient beings inhabiting this earth) we should ensure we are not exploitative. It needs to be a symbiotic relationship, not a parasitic (by us) one. And right there, I saw how my partying and disregarding DD’s needs is part of this exploitative relationship. Though I must admit that after that 1st night (returning at midnight), I would rush home, regardless of the scintillating company, to get DD out the apartment before he got desperate. And did I mention that if you leave the bedroom doors open when he’s home alone, DD will make a point of pissing on your bed to seek retribution for you leaving him alone? Perchance, in his “best breed of therapy dog” way, he prepared me to receive the Earthlings video in a positive manner? 

 

There were parts that had me looking away, fast forwarding ‘cause I could not stand to see the suffering of the animals. There were parts where I gazed in horror, convinced my eyes were not seeing what they were seeing. 

 

I finally get why the guys at the ashram have vegetarianism as a pre-requisite for taking their yoga-instructor courses. I’d previously thought they were being a bit forceful, the usual religious oppressiveness of getting everyone to do it your way or not at all (ok, so maybe they are just a tad). I thought this even after reading their pamphlet on why vegetarianism was the moral choice. It is one thing to read about vivisection (experimenting on live animals) and quite another to actually see what vivisection looks like to millions of animals. 

 

So does one viewing of Earthlings mean I’m cured from the flesh habit? For the time being, yes. But like taking a bath/shower, it needs to be done repeatedly. No, I don’t plan to traumatize myself further by watching it on a monthly basis. I just plan to be more mindful of power relations, that might does not make right (whether you’re a despot or a person about to step on an insect), and that I should empathize with the suffering of all other sentient beings instead of rolling up my window and speeding away ‘cause I am overwhelmed by the number of people who want small change from me.

 

 

Downward dog

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I’ve been hanging out with… let’s call him ‘downward dog’ (or DD for the purposes of this post, mostly because he does a most enviable downward dog in the mornings) for a week now, and boy has he taught me a great deal. I’ll start with the cool parts, though to be honest, it’s all cool :) He parts crowds. When I go out with him, all kinds of people change their routes, quickly crossing over to the other side of the road, or choosing not to leave their cars/perches just yet. I guess that’s how all those dog-walkers in Jozi feel when I spot them from afar and change my walking route. He is precious! and has totally sold me on getting a miniature dog. Eventually. Just need to put a few things in place, see about my schedule and about not living alone, then I can provide a good enough life for one. ‘Cause he is not without demands. He requires a minimum of 2 walks a day. One in the AM, preferably before high noon, and one in the PM, once the streets have emptied of people and cars. A couple of nights I’ve come home late. The first time was at midnight, and as I opened the front door I could feel his weight against the door, and hear his scratching and whining. When I got in, he hustled me like a nonsense! I sprinted to the bathroom, did my business, then sprinted to get his leash so he could get his did. The helper can be heard calling “DD! DD! Malandro!” He hides away when he hears her tone, ’cause he knows he did something really malandr-inous and doesn’t want to cross her path just then. 

He is uber-attentive. Soon as you wear street shoes and he hears the chink of chaves, he starts chasing his tail, thinking you’ll take him out. When he sees your hand reach to get his leash from its perch, he literally starts climbing walls, is how excited he is. It takes some doing to attach the leash to the collar and open the door. When I leave it so late (midnight), he practically flies down the stairs, dragging me in his wake. A couple of times I’ve almost lost my step… that’s what I get for partying too long and leaving him home alone beyond the time he’s accustomed to. Once outside, on flat ground, he picks the direction he wants to go in, then proceeds to sniff at the trunk or roots of the myriad trees present, pissing where he thinks it necessary to leave his scent. He is truly something to watch. Oh, the rules are that you stay outside for as long as it takes him to do number 2. And it’s a science, from a seven-day observation period, I’ve narrowed the average down to 10 minutes of walking and pissing/marking the street before he takes a dump. After that, more pissing/marking, until you the human decide it’s time to get back indoors. And the whole time I’m thinking, “dude! (a) just how much piss do you have in that bladder, and (b) you should go to the Kegel Olympics for being able to exercise that much start, stop control!”

We get into some adventures though. He is a total mchokozi. He knows there are big dogs three gates away, so he walks over there, sniffs at the space underneath the gate, then proceeds to piss on the pillar holding one of the gate hinges. You should see how crazy that drives the dogs behind the gate. Ok, so we’re both wachokozi ‘cause after I observed that the first night, I deliberately take him that way, just to see if we can provoke the ‘prisoners’. Lord help us the day the gatekeeper decides to open it as we’re indulging in our shenanigans.

DD is a most awesome ice-breaker and a great help in assessing someone’s character. I walk him in a different direction ‘cause I want to go by a kiosk and get some stuff. I speak my getting-better-by-the-day-but-still-woefully-inadequate Portuguese to the kiosk owner, and the result is so! not what I desired. The owner says to me that my Portuguese is bad, and that the undesirable result is what I’d asked for in Portuguese. Yeah, right! Anywho, having recently ‘Africakanized’ (this meaning, stopped having a fit about everything that’s not working, and choosing to use the situation – whatever it is – to my advantage), I accept his BS, and we end up having a really great conversation, courtesy of DD. He sees me holding the leash tight (DD likes to lure me into thinking he’s a mild dog, then, when he’s certain I’m not holding the leash tightly, he’ll start barking and running towards random people. He pulled that on day one, almost bit a random individual and I was extremely lucky ‘cause I had the leash wound tightly around my hand just then) and asks what kind of dog I’m hanging out with. I honestly don’t remember what breed his owner told me he is. He looks like a maltese puppy, but he’s 10, so he can’t possibly be a maltese dog?? I pull him back towards the curb so the kiosk owner sees him.

Kiosk owner decides to work on his English with me, and tells me of how he loves dogs, has 6 german shepherds, one doberman. He wants a rottweiler. I ask him if he knows how potentially dangerous that dog is, and a conversation ensues about the merits and demerits of certain breeds. He knows the rottie’s a good indoor family guard dog and he likes its weight, all that muscle and huskiness. I tell him I’ll see what I can do once I’m back in SA. The conversation then turns to how he thinks german shepherds aren’t very good guard dogs, and how the one doberman mauled one german shepherd to death. He says he got home one night after closing the kiosk, to find a mauled dog. Had thieves invaded his compound? Nope. It turned out it was the doberman that done it. He says he was very, very saddened by the loss of the german shepherd, though he’s quick to add that he didn’t cry ‘cause it was a dog, but that it did touch his heart. Did he put the doberman to sleep (in case he’d acquired a taste for german shepherd jugulars)? And I relate this urban legend from my home town, about a family man who had a doberman guarding the house. According to the legend, dobermans are very jealous dogs, they don’t like to see you, their owner, giving someone else quality time. His mom came to visit and he (naturally) spent a great deal of time with her. One sunday morning the family went off to church, leaving the mother in the hao ‘cause she wasn’t too well. She decided to go out into the garden to get some sun… and the rest is legend. They came home to an awfully nauseating sight and tragedy, courtesy of the jealous doberman. So, did kiosk owner put the doberman to sleep? No he did not.

That’s one interesting thing about Maputo. Everyone is warm and eazee, you can feel that ‘hakuna matata’ vibe, BUT, people have dogs, and all kinds of security contraptions in their homes and compounds. Clearly, there’s a need for the kind of security exercised, but the level and characteristic of crime in this city are not immediately evident. I’m still trying to figure them out. One thing I’ll say though, is there is nothing more beautiful than anonymity. Blending in with everyone else, not standing out (when you make sure to shut your mouth). Reason #304847 why I love being an African in Africa (Afrikanization notwithstanding).

Re: the character assessment, I’ve always thought dogs are a good tool to figure out if a person, of the opposite sex, that you might could be interested in in that way, shared some of your world outlook. DD quickly helps me determine that a very sweet guy, love interest (LI), I met a couple of days ago is not going to be easy to get along with at a fundamental level. Granted he’s extremely sweet, but when you’re this long in the tooth (did I just say that of myself? I meant it at an experiential level ;) ), you’ve seen ‘em all. What gives him away is that as soon as I exit the apartment with an excited-to-be-out DD, he immediately raises his leg as if to kick DD. We go downstairs together. I figure I’ll let it ride this first time, afterall, maybe he felt threatened and inclined to defend himself. DD isn’t paying him any mind anyway. We get downstairs and chat as DD is busy leaving his mark on a nearby tree trunk. I ask him if he’s scared of DD, ‘cause a more harmless dog would be hard to find.

There’s a Portuguese saying, o cao que ladra nao morde, a barking dog does not bite/his bark’s worse than his bite… though I’ll bet there’s a whole lot of folk willing to attest to the contrary! LI’s response, lifting his leg in a kicking motion to indicate that he has his leg to keep away DD’s bite, leaves me cold. And no, lest you think one easily dismisses someone based on one ‘small’ thing. What usually happens is that the person has already either offended you or raised your hackles through a series of very small, negligible matters. DD is the last straw in this load of raised hackles, and I smile politely, but acknowledge that LI is a non-starter.