Do Scots wear undies under their kilts?

I’ve recently discovered an amusing and rather unbelievable tid bit fact of Tanzanian culture. To preface my discovery, Tanzania is a very conservative culture where there exists basically no public display of affection, opposite sex don’t hold hands in public, but two men may hold hands out in the open san probleme, a women’s skin is not exposed except for her arms and lower calves, (the younger women may show a bit of cleavage through their v neck t-shirts), female villagers do not wear pants, only big city gals and sex is completely a secret affair. Even buying or acquiring condoms for free is not commonly done because God forbid the dispensary personnel or shop owner know you are sexually active or at least plan to be engaged in sexy time. This is one challenge of educating the community and population the importance of using condoms as sex safe practice to prevent transmission of HIV.

In Tanzania, women wear kanga. It is a piece of rectangle cloth with bright colorful patterns and has a motto written on the bottom. The kanga needs to be cut in half and edges sewn. A kanga comes in two identical pieces. One is wrapped around the waist like a sarong and the other is to cover your torso worn like a shawl or can be wrapped around the head as a head scarf. I was curious to know what women wear under these kanga as I see there is no skirt peeking underneath, unless its shorter or the same length as the kanga.  A friend explained to me the following:

Order of clothing for a woman

1.     underwear

2.     skin tight (second layer of longer underwear that is like a girdle and form fitting)

3.     slip

4.     skirt or dress

5.     kanga

My reaction was, “Say what?” Four layers underneath a kanga? Sometimes a women may not wear a skin tight but will wear a slip underneath her dress or skirt: basically 4 layers of clothes, minimum. Jesus!

It gets better…as a joke, I asked what the men wear? Little did I know I’d be in for a lil’ eye opener.

Order of clothing for men

1.     underwear

2.     Skin tight (that’s what they’re called…tight long boxers) or pair of shorts (like gym shorts)

3.     Pants

Bewildered, I exclaimed something that corresponded with “WTF?” Why the shorts between underwear and trousers?

There were two reasons, which I’d be inclined to guess, that immediately swam in my mind.

a.     You men are afraid of being raped; therefore this is chastity belt a la Tanzania style?

b.     You don’t use toilet paper after doing numero dos, so this is a layer that delays stank? Or in case you get poop stained skid marks on the underwear, is this second layer another protection?

I asked three different males, here were the answers:

1.     Habit and tradition. I was in disbelief. Habit of wearing 3 freakin’ layer of bottom? Who cares...break the habit…be a rebel and end the tradition! Aren’t you hot and uncomfortable? Supposedly, men in coastal area where it’s hot ditch the skin tights. Thank God! I don’t even understand how comfy it is for a man to wear cotton boxers underneath their jeans...it gets all bunched up. I think it’s too much fabric.

2.     The skin tight or shorts over the underwear is to cover “panty line”. Serious, I’m not joking you. I was told that it’s to avoid seeing the shape of the underwear. I have never in my life heard of men concerned with panty line. What kind of men’s trousers is panty line an issue? I’ve never seen men wearing tight jeans or slim fit trousers with their underwear line showing. Unless I’m totally out of it and completely ignorant of the male wardrobe system, men don’t wear spanks or g-strings do they? We’re in the 21^st century, maybe they do and I’m just cluleless.

3.     The shorts over the underwear and underneath the pants is to protect the man’s “you know what”. This friend was trying to avoid saying PENIS so he first explained that men and women have different body shape, and that men have a reproductive system…he hems and haws. Look, Just say dick, cock, weenie, penis, willy, johnson…whatever dude…come out with it. I spared his elaborate description so I helped him out with “private part”. He was grateful that I saved him. He tells me that men do many different things and his gist was that the family jewel needed to be protected from harm and injury. I’m thinking…wear a jock strap, dude. It’s easier and at the end of the day, when you’re on the farm, that 1/16” of skin tight or 1/8” of short fabric ain’t really cuttin’ it when that hoe accidently gets shoved up your willy.

I saved the best for last: (drum roll, please….)

4.     This friend at least had the “balls” to say the word penis to me. He explains without embarrassment that if the man has a big penis, the shorts is to cover it. Basically, you don’t want your ding dong to be ding donging around in lose trousers. A penis is not to be seen, God forbid you see the outline, the package, its movement and the size of the contour. Total no no! Come to think of it, it’s true that I haven’t “noticed” a Tanzanian man’s package suggested beneath his pants. (Trust me, not that I’m looking!) In the west, when a man sits, I can see his balls settled either on the left or right side of his thigh. Even if he stands, you can see the whole shebang, his crotch filled with balls and all. I think I’m starting to understand this “cover up” system of wearing another pair of heavy shorts or tight girdle over their undies. I remember a sight quite unforgettable, in absolute horror, as a teenager back in California, I saw a cyclist on his bike next to our car. We all stopped on the road waiting for the green light. His testicles and penis completed busted out from his short bike shorts. This was, I believe, an accident and unintentional. This or he was a tricky exhibitionist. To flash his package pretending to be a cyclist wearing those God-awful short bike shorts.

As you can imagine, I am laughing in disbelief, the madness of it all, the ultra conservatism and the somewhat hypocrisy of their sexual practices. This was hilarious shit! To “get a rise” out of my male friends, I tell them that some men in the west, especially Europeans, don’t wear underwear at all. Commando! I was curious to see their reaction. Would they think, “you vulgar, uncouth pale ones!” Tanzanians are too polite and will not confront, “You immoral pornographic making devil worshipping white people!”

Two male friends pulled down a bit of their pants waist to show me the gym shorts underneath their pants or jeans. Incredible. If Tanzanians want to get it on…there’s lots of removal of clothes. I now know why they are perpetually late for every thing; they’re putting on and removing clothing…lots of it.

Books and Shrooms and more books and shrooms

Back home in California, I met a Return Peace Corps Volunteer who told me that she read over 200 books during her service. I thought at that time, “Did you even work?”

Now that I, myself, am a Peace Corps Volunteer in service, I completely understand the avid reading. Reading is the only stable entertainment and an activity to keep one sane from dying of boredom in a rural village and to preserve mental upkeep.

Currently, I am the lucky heiress of over 40 hard copy books sitting on a makeshift bookshelf in my house. It’s a plank of wood secured by 2 nails and 2 strings hanging gingerly on a wall. Aside from inheriting these books which belonged to the first Peace Corps Volunteer years ago who served in my village, I brought with me to country a Kindle loaded with free reject books which comprised of lame cook books written in the early 20^th century, some books on Buddhism by unknown authors, some unfashionable classic tales, and crazy titles like “How to make furniture from cardboard boxes” and “ How to make wallets from duct tape”, which I would read If I was ever desperate enough for reading material. It’s free junk. To this mini home library, I’ve also added to the collection some books people have given me and unwanted French books I’ve swiped at a hotel. Pardon…

There is no such thing as a library or bookstore in my village or even in my town. Book is a rare commodity where I live. Internet is not strong enough to surf the web where I can search things to read and I can not Google or download anything.

I remember growing up watching “The Twilight Zone”, the iconic show in black and white with that ever so recognizable hypnotic theme music. There is one episode, title unknown, where an anti social man, a total recluse, a book worm, found himself alone in the most desirable situation for himself, after a world destruction of some kind. He could now finally enjoy reading endlessly without any distraction in the world since he was the only surviving person left on earth with tons of books for his reading pleasure. Being that “The Twilight Zone” was all about irony, the paradoxical story line has it that as he happily climbed onto his mountain of books to pick a book to read, he accidently shattered his glasses. The sad ending is that he would never be able to enjoy his true love: books. Without his glasses, he can not read and thousands of books uninterrupted awaited him. He was distraught, in disbelief…crying and wailing in tears. Life is a cruel joke. The End. It’s like me, Wendy Liu, being able to eat without gaining weight, getting sick, or developing cavities from the most splendid of food in quality, quantity and variety for my feasting but…oops, I have no teeth to enjoy any of that. That is sadism at its finest.

For those who love to read, having good books, the suitable condition, and time are essential.

I have time to read, but sometimes there is no light. If I had strong and reliable internet, the world would be my oyster as I can read to my heart’s content. My Kindle has a light, but I only have junk downloaded. Regrettable, and that’s what I get for being a cheapo. I have a solar light, which I use at night if I have no electricity and of course, that needs to be charged. The best time for me to read is on a weekend daytime where I can lounge all day in bed and read until I’ve developed serious bed sores. I’ve been ditching going to church on Sundays just so I can fondle my books in bed. Let’s face it, going to church for a non-Christian is equivalent to attending a real estate seminar in Yiddish. ZZzzzzzz……..total snoozer….big time! I was attending church to integrate within my community. But surely, there’s many other ways to assimilate aside from suffering 2 hours of dullsville. The only moment where it’s less lackluster is when the church choir begins to sing, but it’s not exactly groovy hip hop or rap, either. My real agenda for going to church is hoping that after the service, maybe some mamas outside the church would be selling some food items. Last Sunday morning, as I snuggled cozily in my bed finishing up “The Da Vinci Code”, my house girl came to work for me and announced that someone was selling mushrooms* at the church and asked if she should buy some for me. “Run like your life depended on it to bring me back some!” was my reply to her. I got up from my bed to give her money and then hastily climbed back in my mosquito net protected fortress of a bed to continue an exciting read.

*I need to detour from my book story and talk about fungi now. I love mushrooms and have never met a shroom I didn’t like. They are fabulous odd little spores, so delectably delicious and lovely in their texture. When I finally decided to be vertical and no longer horizontal, I went to the kitchen and looked at what she bought. From the feel of the bag as I never opened it to look inside, I can tell they were dried mushrooms, real hard ones. Okay, whatever, I thought. I’ve eaten dried mushrooms in Tanzania at a friend’s house and they were not great, but whatever. Beggars can’t be choosy.

I asked my house girl to cook them. Make mushroom soup, I tell her, because she once made mushroom soup from fresh mushrooms and they were quite good, albeit too salty as she always adds too much oil and salt. She uses these ingredients as if she won a lifetime supply from a contest. When her soup was ready, I looked into the pot. Are those pieces of tarmac? What the hell are they? I said nothing, took a plate and started to dish the mystery soup. With my spoon, I caught a piece of what looked like a segment of a burnt roof. I put it in my mouth and it tasted as bad as it looked. What the f*** is this?  I am speaking Swahili to my house girl, “Did you soak this? I am eating shoes!” She laughs and I think to myself…I appreciate your appreciation for my humor, but please answer me. I continue, “not only am I eating shoe because it’s hard and tough, but it tastes like crap!” (okay, I don’t know how to say crap in Swahili, so I said ‘bad’ which rhymes with crap so that’s close enough) She asked if she should light the charcoal again and cook some more. I tell her that yeah…dude, you should have soaked this overnight and then cook it. Like beans, they need to be soaked for a while before cooking. This is eating tree bark! I then changed my mind because aside from its toughness, the taste was God awful that eating the softer variety wouldn’t change its unpleasant taste. It tasted bitter, dusty, muddy and was gritty with sand. My house girl’s virtue is that she is honest and trustworthy. I can leave my house with money and valuables lying around and it will be untouched when I return. As for her culinary skill…let’s just say that she better find a man whose heart is not through his stomach! Her cooking can be hit or miss. It’s more important for me to find an honest person than a good cook. I can cook myself, which I do the majority of time, anyway. Today is the second day I am eating this dreaded so-called mushroom soup. I tell house girl to heat it up. A friend came over just in time and I asked if she would like some. She happily agreed with smiling eyes. Should I warn her that she might be eating dehydrated rat sold as mushrooms? Shortly, the head teacher from a school came over to borrow a paint brush from me. Being the ultimate gracious hostess and to pimp away rat meat soup, I offered Mister if he would care for some mushroom soup. With enthusiasm and the same happy smiling eyes, he accepted. Dudes, you guys have no idea what you’re in for! I already know it tastes and look like decomposed bat, so no surprise for me. I debated whether to warn them. What tastes unsavory and highly unpleasant to me may be a heavenly delicacy to others, so who is to say it’s bad? We three each now have a bowl of black dried tar. Although I have impeccable and discriminating taste for food as I am a self-proclaimed foodie, a veritable aficionado for the culinary arts…I do know what is good and bad; nevertheless, my talent in tolerance and flexibility has allowed me to have the ability to eat mass quantity and eat low grade inferior food not only without gagging but being able to finish everything. If only this was a talent I could use on my resume. I know definitely I will never be reborn as a starving kid in Africa because I never waste food. I quietly ate my zombie soup while sneaking peaks at my two friends’ bowl to see if they’ve done any damage. The room was quiet. Nobody was talking. I don’t blame them, it’s shocking eating what was offered. Do they graciously lie and claim no longer being hungry or suck it up and try to swallow? I see them eating but many black pieces of bat wings remained. They’re eating the potatoes and not touching the pieces of tarmac. I think these black mushrooms are the kind you put in a witch’s cauldron to make magic potions to poison people, not the kind you feed normal human beings who are hungry for regular food. I finish my soup and I look up to see Mister whispering while chuckling to my friend as he pushed his soup aside. I don’t blame you, dude. It tastes nasty! I’m finishing mine only because I don’t want to be reborn as a hungry Ethiopian boy with flies over my eyes…As house girl was clearing our plates, I tell her that she can take home the leftover bat wings (they’re huge pieces) to her dog as there is no need to waste “good food”…(cough, cough)

I read on average about 2 books a month. I can easily finish a book in a day, but usually it takes several sessions to finish. I’ve enjoyed every book I’ve read so far only because it’s a constant entertainment available to me. But my experience of these stories is like a good tasting menu with a lousy last course. Each course or chapters are enjoyable and interesting until the end when a bow tied, white apron cladded, snooty garcon serves me jello for dessert. Sometimes, I wonder if the author suddenly gave up because he wanted to quickly finish the book so he just slapped on some careless ending without much thought?

Here is a brief book review and a rating system:

***** Big times!

****   It’s a quality read, story line and style depends on your taste

***    Not shabs, but nothing to write home about

**      The publisher probably was desperate for new writers

*        Crud, like the dried black mushroom soup

1. ***The Discovery, Dan Walsh

It’s a sappy, sentimental novel for those who enjoy love stories with feel good endings, nothing sophisticated and actually quite predicable. Housewives in Middle America probably will love this kind of story, as it’s simple and romantic with a bit of mystery…it’s something you take to the beach on a Memorial Day weekend while eating a whole bag of Lay’s potato chips.

2. ****All About Love, Bell Hook

Written by a Yale professor, she examines the different kinds of love. Insightful, scholarly and deep. It’s not a book for people trying to get tips on how to find love in all the wrong places. It’s an academic study of the various dynamic of love.

3. ****Water for Elephant, Sara Gruen

 This New York Times best seller novel is worth the read. I wouldn’t necessarily sprint out to rush and buy the book; but if it was available, it definitely deserves the time to be perused. The author took time to research the 1930’s and circus life. I was given crème brulee for dessert on this one. Good ending: I approve!

4. ***Some Girls, Jilian Lauren

A biography of an aspiring actress-cum-call girl unknowingly was sold into a harem working for a Prince in Brunei. The technical writing and actual stories told were not bad but the abrupt ending of not telling the reader what happened to her at the end was a total let down. In her own admission, she even claims not divulging much. A theme like this lends itself to total depravity and juicy dirt; instead, it was too tame. If I chose to read about prostitution for big bucks with the richest man in the world, I would expect only real sordid meat in all its immoral details! The ending was a jello. Total tease.

5. **** Olive Kitteridge, Elizabeth Stout

Winner of Pulitzer Prize with lots of rave reviews from its book jacket. This fiction is different in that it’s many little vignettes about the main character, Olive, and the people in her world. It’s an examination of her life and personality, which either the reader will like or dislike her. Technically, it’s well written. It’s a matter of whether you care about the protagonist and her life or not. If she was a real life person, people would either think she’s a biatch or gets her drift and like her. I’m neutral. I could hang with Olive. I like people who are not like everyone else.

6. ****The Village of Waiting, George Packer

This is a true account of a former Peace Corps Volunteer who served in Togo, West Africa. Not to be biased, but obviously I can relate well to his stories, as his description of his circumstance more than 20 years ago is my current reality. What I did not like about the book was the author not explaining why he Early Terminated his service only after 18 months. He took a vacation to Barcelona and instead of returning to Togo to complete his service, he decided to head back home to New York. Again, in the book, he states his abrupt ending of the story without disclosing the reason or continuing with the story. I was given jello for dessert on this one too. I hate it when that happens.

7. ****Holidays on Ice, David Sedaris

This is a collection of essays and short stories by a writer who is truly hilarious! Stories revolve around Christmas time. Reading this is like eating a big fat chocolate cake, it’s enjoyable and filling with empty calories. I’d read it again just for the brainless amusement, total entertainment.

8. ***Hotel du Lac, Anita Brookner

Winner of the Bookner Prize, I found this book at times hard to read. It was written in the 80’s but from the language and tone, you’d think you’re reading English literature from the 19^th century written by Miss Prissy Prim Proper. Fancy words and contrived expression makes this reading labored. The writing takes itself too seriously and I didn’t care about any of the characters. I liked no one in the story! On a positive note, there is a certain ambience created, which makes this story about a woman staying in a hotel in Switzerland alone in search of herself, her relations with others and her idea of love more appealing.

9. ****The Lamp, Jim Stovall

A friend sent me this little pocket book written by a motivational speaker/coach. It is a tale of a couple living a mediocre, typical boring American life going nowhere, who discovers a magic lamp purchased at a garage sale. The “genie” grants them 3 wishes. At the end, the “revelation” is that you are able to achieve what you want without a genie. Excellent message but insubstantial in content, as it doesn’t explain how. Of course, the struggling couple wants a million bucks for their first wish, how typical!

10. ***Uncensored Girls, Usman Conteh

Macmillan Writer’s Prize for Africa, this short story is about a young teenage girl in Sierra Leone, Africa fighting for her right not to be subjugated to female circumcision by her mother who believes that to undergo this procedure would make her daughter moral and a better wife. This is a great story about female empowerment, especially for young African women.

11. ** Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang, Chelsea Handler

Although the author is a cable network celebrity and the book jacket claims her as a New York Times best selling author, I gave this a low rating because it’s dumb. Truly, if it weren’t for her fame, these collections of random personal stories wouldn’t be published unless you’re “somebody”. I don’t watch TV so I don’t know who the hell she is but after reading this time waster of a book, I’m glad I still don’t know who she is. Supposedly, she is a comedian. Well, I guess I didn’t take my funny pills when I read this book because I didn’t crack a smile…trust me, I have a sense of humor. In life, if you are a celebrity, you can write all kinds of garbage that probably takes all of 2 weeks to write, edit, publish and the American population will buy your crap and lap it up from your hands making these overpaid people even more rich. This book is stupid. Please don’t support stupidity.

12. ***** The Da Vinci Code, Dan Brown

40 million copies sold and #1 worldwide best seller.

Hmmmm….yep, I get it…they even made it into a movie!

It’s a thriller/mystery fiction based on true facts regarding secret societies, documents and places. This story is super smart, clever as hell, interesting, entertaining while educational and simply brilliant. Each corner and chapter was a new surprise. Never boring! Highly recommended if you’re into fiction and want something outstanding. A possible disappointment is the ending though….it’s a big chase for the treasure and at the end, you ask yourself, “Well, where is it and what is it?” The ending is subtle and not obvious. For those seeking the answer as you turn each page, you may realize you’ll never get the answer. A great read, nevertheless. The story takes place in Paris, France and having lived there for 5 years and returning often, in my mind the story is more vivid because I can see where the events are happening. Ooh la la…Paris, tu me manques!

Back to the story of shrooms again.

Yesterday, my house girl exceedingly redeemed herself. She brought me new fungi.  What a complete detour from eating tried chunks of rubber tires to later known as eating a piece of heaven. I am a fungi fan who haven’t met a fungi I didn’t liked. (tarmac doesnn’t count) I asked where she got them and she answered that she picked them herself in the forest. Slightly freaked, I asked if they were poisonous only to see if she understood that not all mushrooms are edible and many are potentially fatal when eaten. I would think villagers know what the hell they’re doing when picking mushrooms to eat. Thought I just check….you know.

Dear Liu Family,

We regret to inform you that your daughter has passed away from the most unusual kind. In our 51 years of Peace Corps history, we have never had anyone croak from eating shrooms…if it’s any consolation knowing your daughter, surely she would have wanted to enjoy the activity she loved most before departing: Eating!

Sincerely,

Peace Corps Tanzania

My house girl assured me they are not poisonous because she ate some herself. Great! Stoke the firewood and start cookin’ the shrooms! I take them out of the bag and examined them. They looked like badly made cookies without any specific shape but their texture and touch were extremely soft and filled with tons of water. I was holding moisture. If moisture could be in a solid form, other than ice, this specific kind of mushroom is it. The top looked like microscopic sponge with holes. The color was that of butter color and they smelled sweet, too...like apples. They are so delicate and soft, like baby cheeks.

I returned home from teaching my afternoon classes and went straight to the kitchen to see what concoction she had made. A pot of mushroom soup! It’s gonna be a great dinner! That night, I took my cold bucket bath, dressed in jammies, had electricity so I watched something on my laptop and dished myself a big bowl of this shroom soup eagerly planning an enjoyable Tuesday evening. Life can be good in po dunk rural Africa!

Verdict: Unbelievable!!!!

The texture was so soft that chewing was optional. It melted in my mouth; the moisture content was out of this world. What kind of food is so soft? It’s like the angora rabbit of the food world. This mushroom was slick, slippery, soft, and velvety and silky all in one! If heaven had a taste, I just ate it. I would highly recommend this for people with no teeth. Your gums could just chomp on them.

Two days later, my house girl brought me more of the same mushrooms. She asked someone to go find them in the forest or where ever these suckers reside and I’m asked to pay 400 TZs. Are you serious? That’s all? US$ . 25! A quarter? You sure it’s not 4,000 TZs which is US$2.50? I gave her two coins to give to that person who hunted the shrooms and couldn’t believe how dirt cheap I’m asked to pay for the “finder’s fee”.

Today in my classes, I described to my students and showed them photos of these lovelies, who are free manual labor workers, about this gem I discovered. I bribed them:

“ Go to the forest, the field, the bush, go where you gotta go to find these mushrooms and I will pay you. Yes, I will pay you. “

True to form, this weekend, three students came to my house and offered me bags of this beautiful mushroom. One student brought perfect ones: round, unblemished and whole pieces. I asked these students where they found the fungi? They answered that they picked them at the school ground. I happily accepted although I told them today, Monday, at school that I’m getting sick and tired of eating these shrooms now. I need break from fungi! “Wait for a bit and I’ll tell you when I want more mushrooms”, I instructed them. As payment to these students, I didn’t have small bills or change so I offered them a choice of either Tanzanian money in which they’d have to wait a bit or take the option of choosing pencils or health chocolate granola bars from America. I told them the bar in USA would cost a buck, which is TZs 1,600, a small fortune for a kid living in a rural village. I put a stash of assorted color pencils and different flavored bars for the two girls to choose. They were shy and hesitated, but after some encouragement asking them to pick their prize, they ran and grabbed everything in sight. No dudes, I said pick one! A girl chose a pencil, the other a bar, and I gave the boy a pencil and a bar since his mushrooms were perfect in every sense! (The 2 girls do not know this) I felt somewhat guilty not giving the girls both a pencil and a bar, but honestly, things are valuable here in a poor rural village. I need all the “things” I can get as sometimes I offer stuff as gifts or repayment of some kind. Last weekend, a student took 6 big avocadoes from her home to give to me when she knew I love them and was asking around where avocado trees exist? As an expression of my gratitude, I gave her a big bar of Hershey chocolate. I hope she didn’t get in trouble for swiping the family’s avocado stash. Needless to say, any dumb kid would have given me some avocadoes that our village grow randomly and can get for free or purchased dirt cheap in exchange for a wonderful Willy Wonka Candy Bar from the land of milk and honey: America!