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Monthly Archives: July 2012

The Msema Kweli, and the Mad Woman who Wanted A fight


On a whiff of randomness the other day, I opened a facebook group for my primary school. Karunga Primary School, tucked somewhere in Kiambu, is where I spent eight years of my life learning everything from ABCD from Mrs. Dorothy (she had that musky old-woman smell) to present and past participles from Miss. Virginia. You know what happens when you start a group like that, people start remembering, photos start appearing, the friend requests start flowing. I still have my khaki shirt hanged somewhere in my parents’ house and numerous photos of my class.
It also makes one remember small things…


The lastborn of my sisters left primary school when I was in class four and in those four years where we had to go to school together every morning, I think the number of times I got to school before the bell rang at 6.45 pale in comparison to those I had to stand in line for the whipping or to run several times around the school field (outside PE lessons, this was considered a punishment).
When she finally did leave primary school and I was left to tend to myself, I still couldn’t make it to school on time. I was a teachers’ pet though, and I was a lazy thing so looking for any alternatives to getting beaten was the order of every morning.  I sneaked into school several times through a hole in the fence. I think I should add it was Kei apple fence, complete with thorns sewn meticulously into the wire mesh by the school factotum, who was the school gardener, fence-trimmer, carpenter and mechanic, and worker extraordinare. Sneaking in was therefore a ninja affair, the kind of slow motion you see in scenes where Angelina Jolie is working the laser system. I survived that, and I survived Mr. Mwai, our science teacher who had a small stiff rubber cane he christened (the) ‘Msema-kweli’.

A cane, and the concept of pain, is supposed to be a deterrent towards the act for which one is being punished. The msema-kweli, shaped like Africa with oblong sides on the North and South (One for grip, the other for contact), did exactly that. It was a short rubber cane, as long as the grown man’s palm but not as wide (Physics comes into play here). It integrated science into your palms as heat and pain and sometimes made you aware that keeping time  and getting 70% in a test were not requests. He died several years ago, Mr. Mwai, but I am sure someone somewhere has preserved that cane he whipped generations of students with, and always fished out of his back pocket when you did something wrong (it gave us a false sense of security because he could not use anything else to beat students. That is, until he reached for his back pocket and the sense of security levitated out of the room). I also survived the female teacher who had surname like mine (her husband and my old man are distant cousins and share the same second name) who used to hide her car behind the classes so you would get to school late and think you were safe, only to run towards the class and find other unlucky culprits kneeling behind the school tank.And we fell for it, every time.
There are several anecdotes as to why our time-keeping got worse when she got to class six. It all started with a woman who, for the sake of this article, we shall christen Wamatumbi* (I know, a mouthful, it means ‘one of the eggs’). Wamatumbi was a mentally disabled woman who lived next to our school. I dated her sister later, for a day or two I think, but that’s a story for another day. My sister has always been a healthy child (read fat*) and has therefore always seemed more mature than her current age….and Wamatumbi*, if she is still alive, is a very fat woman too (women, stop cringing, as the captain of this story, I am allowed to call women ‘fat’). A heavyset woman who had a retarded look on her face, like one eye was bigger than the other, ogling at you, waiting for you to make eye contact so that the fight could start.
One day, my sister was leaving school when she met out antagonist. They did not know each other so well but I suspect that at Wamatumbi had at one time been a student at our school. Still, Wamatumbi called out my sister’s name. You know how, as a society, we like to treat the mentally or physically challenged, if we are not directly related to them, we try to walk past them as fast as possible. That is exactly what my sister was trying to do, but Wamatumbi had a better idea.
“You! Stand there we fight.” Wamatumbi shouted.
“I am sorry, I do not fight with people who are bigger than me,” my sister replied, trying to walk away as fast as possible.
“Are you calling me fat?” an increasingly agitated Wamatumbi asked.
“No, no, I was just saying you are older than me, so I can’t fight you,” My sister should, at this point, have done the clever thing and asked for a lawyer.
“Aaaaah, so you are calling me old huh? You are insulting me? I will show you….” Wamatumbi replied as she gave chase.
Now picture this, two fat women chasing each other, actually, one woman chasing two girls (My sister was walking with a cousin). You can see it, hear the screaming and thumping of legs as one person looks for a fight and two girls run as fast as they can?

As they run towards home, everybody stops to see, some sadists laughing, some pastor praying, kids getting out of the way, a story to tell.

The heaving, the thuds, as one unhealthy woman chases two unhealthy ones. It was a hilarious sight but they got away, proving that equally matched opponents can never defeat each other.

Where our antagonist lives is directly behind the fence of the school, next to one of the two access points to the main gate. This meant that we risked meeting her anytime on our way out of and headed to school. To solve this situation, our headmaster, a well-groomed man with a shining bald head who was said to do more than teach beautiful girls, allowed my sister to use a smaller gate reserved for teachers.

The gate, for it is still there, allows one to cut the distance by around 300 meters by accessing the school directly from the main road and into what used to be the school shamba instead of following the school fence all the way to the main gate. This meant that we could enter the school without using the common route, where a teacher would be standing at a vantage point with a whip every morning at 6:46, rearing to transfer the potential energy in her body into kinetic energy on a poor boy’s behind or poor girl’s hands. That’s something I can never get, to this day, why girl’s would be whipped on the hands and not on the bottom like the boys. Someone mentioned something about their sexuality but still, anatomy shows that on average, women have a greater layering on the bottom than men which would make them better equipped to handle such beatings. Anyway, those are years gone…
Still, to access this ‘special gate’ meant using the longer route to school which meant that we were late every morning. We devised ways of hiding it, there was the few times I ran to the back of the class, called out my desk mates name and handed him my bag, then pretended I was heading back to class from the washrooms. It seems wrong to call them washrooms because they were just two sets of pit latrines and three walls with a trench at the bottom.

One set of pit latrines, the one used by the girls, sank into itself during the El Nino rains of 1998. We just got to school one morning and there was no toilet, only a huge gaping hole with lots of shit and maggots (I see you cringing) where the Ladies once stood (You.See.What.I.Just.Did.There?). It meant that we now had to share the toilets, and there are stories…of happenings…

They finally built new modern toilets at the turn of the new millennium, the kind with a plastered sewer system and filled with water to break down the sewage. They are the kind that, when you are taking a dump, you can hear the distant sound of your turds or the trickle hitting the water. If it sounds disturbing, it’s because it was.
Yours truly had gotten to school late more than a few times, but on almost all accounts, I would be freed so my sister would be beaten on my behalf. I suspect the teachers knew it was her fault, all the time, but it also meant that from that time on, she had no qualms leaving me behind if I delayed by a second. To be whipped double your ‘bill’ on a cold morning for your small brother is a touch price to pay, but she used to bully me at home so I guess, debt paid?

Still, as she went to class six and her eyesight started failing, I became her second set of eyes, always keeping an eye out for Wamatumbi* and another guy who we shall call John came into the picture, albeit momentarily. The story of John is sadly funny, he approached my sister once in the thicket as she was headed home. Now, any guy who has a crush on a girl knows that the best time to make his feelings known is when and if he can find her alone. Find her with her girlfriends and you are in trouble, women tend to be cruel in groups, alone, it is easier to make known your feelings without the distraction of her hotter friends. Approach a woman alone in the thicket when darkness is falling and the situation changes, Cupid, changes into possible rape, and we have a whole different scenario.
“ How are you?” He asks, walking slowly towards the now startled girl.
“Poa sana…” she replies, trying to walk away as fast as possible.
“ Please stop, I need you, sorry, I need to talk to you, I thirst for you (his words not mine, even worse in vernacular), I have always thirsted for you…” our would-be rapist says, bowing as he does so, as if ashamed at making his cravings for this girl known.
“You know, John, its John, right? (Ouch) When we thirst we drink  Jesus (Huh, what now?), you should try it too.” This is the same girl who only went to church because it was the usual thing at home.

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He increases his pace, thinking of his next line, he can’t lose her, no, not today.
“Can Jesus really satisfy my thirst for you?” He asks, desperately now.
“Yes, yes he can,” she answers as she looks back and suddenly breaks into a run.
John never bothered my sister again, not because he gave his quest but because she never used that route again. It was a cursed route because it led directly to where our earlier antagonist lives and it goes to show that life, and even fellow thickset women, have never been fair to thickset women. Luckily, unlike her, he did not chase after her which perhaps means he was either not as ‘thirsty as he thought’ or he was ‘too thirsty’ to run after love (sic!).

Owaahh
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Cannibal Cuisine: How to Better Serve Your Fellow Man


The Zombie Apocalypse is nigh.

*Fade In*

Enter Subukia farm worker Amos Gichue Kimeria  (his last name, translated means ‘one who swallows’…human flesh, it would seem) carrying a machete with blood stains. Our protagonist belches, he had such a fine meal last night he has actually woken up with enough strenght to walk to the police station and confess his crime, he ate a man.

The funny thing with this case is that the victim, one Samuel Epolisi Lokodet and all other villagers had been warned against using the path where the former was killed and dragged to make a meal. Redefining the concept of a ‘hunt’, Kimeria waylaid his would-be victim and then attacked him before dragging him all the way to his house and making a meal out of him. Two things led villagers to his house, the obvious trail of human blood and the smell of freshly cooked human flesh (you can smell it too, can’t you?).

Pictured: A warning you should never ignore.

The butcher precision described in most news articles is disturbing, the body was sliced open, cut in various pieces to ‘…provide boneless flesh.” …”The left leg had the upper leg flesh cut out, apparently to provide Thursday evening’s roast meat.” “…the bowels were stashed in a soot-covered sufuria that had been used to boil them.”

In almost every continent over the last two months, there have been cases of cannibalism, or zombie-ism. The jury is out on whether this is just a case of easier communication which means that such stories now have a global audience or a story of actual zombie-like evolution. In their literal meaning they mean nearly the same thing but a good cannibal is one who takes time to wash the body and chunks of meat, and even more time to make a cuisine out of his fellow man. A zombie, on the other hand, eats raw human flesh and loves it, at least in pop culture. The latter has happened twice in the US over the course of two weeks, with Alex Kinyua being a literal ‘heartbreaker’ (relax ladies, he likes men with doctorates, preferably West African) and the Miami Zombie, the man who was shot after police found him squatting, eating another man’s face. In any other situation, that last part of the preceding sentence would have sounded very gay (go on, take your eyes back and tell me what is not gay about one man eating another).

In the case of the Miami Zombie, the main suspect was bath salts, a concoction of drugs that can give you such a high that you believe you have super human strength (and apparently, a craving for your fellow man). Rudy Eugene was gnawing on the face of a homeless guy. More proof that he had gone zombie is the fact that he was naked and responded to police warnings with a growl, like your pet dog does when he is chewing on chunks of meat (the pet dog part will come in handy later). The police had no choice but to shoot his face-eating ass before he chewed the homeless guy out of a face too. Although everyone suspected bath salts, it turns out all he had was a little marijuana which goes to prove that in the case of the face-eater, other forces were at play (religious people can say it was the devil but for the sake of this post, think Zombies). The strange thing is, the Miami Zombie had no human flesh in his stomach so he might not be a cannibal but a zombie after all?

The Zombie bug also bit (Did.you.see.what.I.Just.Did.There?) in China where a drunken bus driver attacked a woman and started ‘gnawing on her face’. ‘Du’ ( a befitting name for one who is eaten, methinks, because you can pronounce it as ‘dough’) was actually pulled from her car by ‘Dong’ (Huh?) who had all of 1.75 ml of hard liquor flowing in his system (Asians and alcohol, not a good mix). Dong (I can’t get enough of this name) did enough damage to warrant reconstructive surgery for ‘Du’. After reading this, you are allowed to say, with legal backing, that “‘Dong’ ate ‘Du’ or ‘Du’ was eaten by ‘Dong’” Oh, and there is footage and photos of the unlucky ‘Du’ being gnawed upon (check the link above).

Made in China…wait, is that Zombie Barbie? Dong got her too? Asking for a friend….

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Even more intriguing is the case of Mao Sugiyama, a Japanese who had his genitals surgically removed and then cooked them for five diners who each paid $250 to, it would seem, eat a testicle cuisine. I don’t know what is so intriguing about a man cooking his own loins and then serving them to paying diners but I know the accompaniments were quite something (button mushrooms and parsley…yum yum?). Alex Kinyua, naturalized US citizen, had gone further than just his victim/meal’s heart. He had also eaten the brain, something zombies do

Ivan L., in Russia, is a chef who, unlike Sugiyama, chose to cook his victim’s/meals by rolling them into sausages and meatballs (you thought donkey and dog meat was the worst huh? Welcome new Moscow-meatball cuisine, tastes as good as the next guy).

“The small of the back is the best place to start with…” Zombie Martha Stewart Cuisine Recipe instructions, 2020.

There is the case of the gay porn star who ate his boyfriend and sent his limbs to political party headquarters to make a point.Or the professor from Sweden who ate his wife’s lips went a step further, using the cuisine of raw human flesh (a contradiction, if you ask me) to settle scores with his ‘cheating’ wife. It would appear that he sort to punish the orifice through which the cheating was done, a key element of the Mosaic Law (am stretching it, no?).

Stephen Griffith’s ate three women in a none-sexual kind of way. Interesting is the fact that he killed one in the medieval style, using a crossbow. He cooked two, and ate one raw, and what you don’t hear is whether he will ever get to write a thesis about a human flesh cuisine (we need to find a single name for this new cuisine?) since he was a PhD. Cannibalism is not new and in some cases, such as this one where Armin Meiwes found a willing meal in Bernd-Jurgen Brandes (sounds like one complex meal, that one). The victim, if you read the story, was alive for long enough to eat his own junk, well-cooked by his executioner/diner, before he blacked out and was made into a main course.

Then SCREEEEEEAM at the top of your lungs, if you still have any left.

Are you grossed out already? I still have not told you the story of the Texas man who recently ate his family pet dog. Michael Daniel was high on synthetic marijuana when he beat his 40-pound family pooch and started eating the black dog. He “began to bite into the dog, ripping pieces of his flesh away.” Whether or not the K-2 in his system caused his to be psychotic enough to kill and eat a dog raw is for a jury to decide but, unlike where other humans eat their fellow men, the worst he can be accused of is ‘animal cruelty’ (look at you, with a disgusted look on your face yet you had beef last night. Acceptable? Yuh, so is pork and dog meat).

Cannibalism is covered several times in the Old Testament, in passages such as the famous

“…”Give your son, that we may eat him today, and we will eat my son tomorrow.’ So we boiled my son, and ate him. And I said to her on the next day, “Give your son, that we may eat him’; but she has hidden her son.” (2 Kings 6:24-30).

It is found much earlier in Deuteronomy 28:53-57, Leviticus 26:27-30, Micah 3 and others. If you think about it, even the very foundation of Sacrament, John 6:55 where J.C says “He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him,” makes allusions to cannibalism, albeit sanctioned and, as many Christians will argue, obviously not literal.

In Islam, the argument about whether or not eating human flesh is permissible is just as controversial. The scripture below, for example, seems to provide options for eating much of anything but does not give explicit permission for human flesh.

“He has only forbidden you dead meat, and blood, and the flesh of swine, and any (food) over which the name of other than Allah has been invoked. But if one is forced by necessity, without willful disobedience, nor transgressing due limits,- then Allah is Oft-Forgiving, Most Merciful” (Surah The Bee 16:115).

There is no consensus among Muslim scholars on the exact implications of the passage above. One school of though holds that it is never permissible to eat a human being while another argues that it is okay to eat human flesh as long as it be that of an enemy fighter or adulterer.

In other religions, the debate continues, among atheists the main culprit is our own human nature as survivalists. Evolution has turned us into natural cannibals, ‘reduced the size of our jaws‘, domesticated by the fact that we have other ready sources of food.

Oh, you thought we were at the top of the food chain? I can see how you would make such a…wait, BRAAAAINS!

Since we think ourselves normal, we recoil at the thought of a human being eating human flesh, whether his, of that of a consenting victim or that of an unlucky ‘Du’. We “…refrain from exploring the possibility of our own ability to cannibalize others..” because the thought is disturbing. We recoil at the thought of eating ‘man’s best friend’ raw and yet, driven to hunger and with an impending zombie apocalypse (if you believe in a zombified future), human beings will eat each other to survive, even where there are no bath salts or hard liquor to help. The fact of the matter is, the Zombie Apocalypse might not be nigh but it is lurking and you might have to start your fellow man as a good source of protein.

Chaos, disorder, Pandemonium, panic, controversy, self-doubt, craving a human brain, family pet? My work here is done.

[All Photos sourced from ‘Zombies are Delicious’]

Owaahh©

 

 
2 Comments

Posted by on July 4, 2012 in Death, Despair, Morbid, Random, Stupidity

 

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Ritual Sex, Orgies and Lessons from Bizarre Cultural Practices


     At every stage in the history of man, every generation has viewed itsel as more advanced and civilized than the last one. Yet it is all a matter of perspective; every subsequent generation, especially in matter’s coital, will adopt and adapt to realities and beliefs. Although anthropology teaches us several things about the evolution of cultures, the position of sex and orgies within a primitive context is not comparable at all to the modern madness. Using history as a reflection, it is easy to trace most modern sexual fetishes and practices which goes to prove that we never really evolve, we just learn how to behave in public.

        Among the Kikuyu and several other Kenyan tribes, initiation ritual sex was allowed and expected. In fact, according to this article, parents would talk freely with the children on all matters sexual, including the pre-initiation masturbation which was ‘right and proper’ for boys but ‘wrong’ for girls. Ngwiko was a post-initiation ceremony of incomplete sex-play that disappeared during the colonial era while some such as kuhuurwo mbiro ya rwenji’ (wiping off the soot of the circumcision knife’) are still present among some rural Kikuyu. This was full sexual intercourse, different from the intercourse during the initiation ceremony itself. Suffice to say that in addition to the knives, the tetanus and the bleeding, initiation ceremonies were big orgies.

Other elements of sexuality included mutual masturbation among young unmarried adults. Full intercourse was discouraged before initiation but they could pretty much engage in anything else.

    Then there’s this article with more racist rants than a KKK dream. Before you read it, I should warn you that the comments are worse. The stated facts are, however, exactly that, facts. Among the Samba of West Africa, a boy must copulate with the older men orally during the first stage of the initiation ceremony. Interestingly, this has nothing to do with feminization but with turning the boys into fierce warriors by ingesting the semen of the older more accomplished men, or, euphemically  ‘inseminators.’

    The Fourth Stage of Initiation has an interesting element. The young man, now turned from being ‘inseminated’ to being an ‘inseminator’ marries and is taught how to protect himself from the odor of a woman’s genitalia. He must, “…while having intercourse with her, not penetrate too deeply because if it (you will not believe this) enters her urethra it might make him ill…” HUH? The upside is that the young woman has been taught fellatio and she must swallow the semen “…to later be able to provide her child with milk and strong bones..” because the Samba believe “…semen is transformed into breast milk…”

Johnny Bravo

He does look quite manly but, question is, how much can he swallow?

     You have probably heard the argument that homosexuality is not only African but the first recorded case was actually right here. Archeology proves the point, with a 4390-year old Saqqara tomb in Egypt. In it, two men, Khnumhotep and Niankhkhnum are buried together, a practice only related to lovers. The walls of the tomb depict them nose kissing and in an intimate embrace.

    Generally, gay people in traditional socieities were classified in a neutral manner, with lesbians making up most of traditional healers and astrologers in some South African tribes. In some tribes in Gabon and Cameroon, homosexuality was believed to have a medicinal effect. Among the Meru of Kenya, crossdressing medicinemen called ‘Mugawe’ were known to engage in homosexual relationships, although the social dynamics viewed them as women despite their male genitalia.  

    Sexual orgies of yore were dark events, and future generations will perhaps think the same too of our coital madness. Joseph Campbell writes about the ritual love-death in a book called Primitive Mythology, a part of the series ‘The Masks of God. ‘The Marind-anim of South Guinea had one ritual that combined everything from cannibalism to sexual orgies.

In Page 171, Campbell writes:

The particular moment of importance….which terminates in a sexual orgy of several days and several nights, during which everyone in the village except the initiates makes free with everybody else…-until the final night, when a fine young girl, painted, oiled, and ceremoniously costumed, is led to the dancing ground and made to lie beneath a platform of very heavy logs. With her, in the open of the festival, the initiates cohabit, one after another; and while the youth chosen to be last is embracing her the supports of the logs above are jerked away and the platform drops, to a prodigious boom of drums. A hideous howl goes up and the dead girl and boy are dragged from the logs, cut up, roasted, and eaten.”

That’s two different orgies, one with everyone in it except the select few and the other with the select few in a single girl who, with her last mate still at it, would be killed, roasted and eaten. And in the morning, they would feel as accomplished as the next guy.

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Seconds to Disaster, the cuisine.

Before that grosses you out, the Mardurdjara Aborigines of Australia have a solution for all men who have trouble peeing with an erection in the morning. It’s simple, during male initiation, the boy would be made to cannibalize his own foreskin. He has to, essentially, swallow ‘his own boy”. Disgusted? Relax, later, the young man gets a second incision “…on the underside of the penis right from the frenulum, the head, all the way to somewhere near the scrotum…” This means that he has to squat to urinate so there gentlemen, problem solved? Anthropologists think it’s meant to simulate menstruation, essentially to sympathize with women. In the comments here , the commenter says that the nick was also used as a form of contraception because a pebble could be placed inside there to stop the semen from flowing into the vagina during intercourse.

    Marriage orgies are an interesting primitive cultural element, but it has not quite died down. In modern weddings, especially those done in the Western world, ‘gang kissing’ the bride is an accepted and expected part of the wedding ceremony. Gang kissing itself traces its roots to a tradition in some cultures where a marriage ceremony would end ‘…with people other than the groom being granted full sexual access to the bride’. Freud defined as the ‘..bride taking on all the men present.”

    Among the Dahari of India, however, exists a slightly different version where any woman married into a family (not a particular man) has to have sex with all the brothers. That means that a wealthy family is known by how many wives they own between them, as opposed to how many cars, acres of land, jet planes or even bank amounts.

   Among the Chickasaw matrilineal system, a man moved into his wife’s home after approval by her mother and sisters. Once accepted, he was culturally allowed to have sex with all her sisters, married or otherwise. I should probably end that part with a disclaimer that you should not try that at home, but you go ahead, refuse to give a fuck and go all Chickasaw on your wife and her sisters. Also, please like before you do it, in case they have an internet connection in the part of hell you will be relegated to after your wife chickasaw’s your behind!

 

 

 

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