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Finish and klaar

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Finish and klaar. It is all finished. We do not need to see its corpse to prove that it is long dead. Our culture is gone; done and dusted. Sometimes when I think about it, I find my nylon rope and my neighbour’s tree very close companions.

You see, there is a way that we do things that is uniquely African and I am proud of that. It has always solved us a lot of headaches. You see, the way we eat is environmentally friendly.  Take for example the way we eat chicken. It is very different from the way other people eat it. I mean, the way white people eat chicken, it really makes you feel very sorry for their money. But the way we eat chicken, it makes you feel very sorry for the chicken.

 

White people just bite here and bite there and leave the rest for the dustbin. They do not go anywhere near the bones. Oooh, what a waste! When it comes to us, you will definitely need forensic experts to tell you that there was once chicken on that plate. It is a finish and klaar, we clean the plate. Without careful use of electron-microscope, you would not see even a trace of a bone. No bone goes to waste. Even the hardest of them bones, we never run out of patience to reduce it to powder. After all, patience can cook a stone.

If we cannot eat the bone, then it would have to be the bone marrow. But before we can throw away any bone to the dust bin, it will first have to go through the last test; dogs. If you think I am joking, you should see how I eat an apple. It is only when I am in a public space that I pretend to eat it like white people. But in my private space, the only thing that escapes my wrath is the seeds and that is only because I fear they will germinate in my tummy, otherwise it could be a different story.

 

The other thing is this DNA testing. It is breaking families apart and must be stopped. You see, our parents used to do their own unique “DNA test.” They just had to look at the baby and confirm your worst fears. If you queried that the baby did not look anything like you, they would “apportion” the child’s looks to different relatives. They would tell you the nose matches that of your aunt and while in the middle of all this, one would even burst in to tears saying the child’s head reminded her of your late uncle who died in the mines.

 

When you complain about the child’s complexion and soft fluffy hair, they would tell you that originally your great grandfather was Indian. When they see that the odds are stuck against them, then they will give the child a controversial name like “Gabanthate” or “Dipuo.”  By the end of it all, you be happily stuck with an Asian-looking baby. Finish and klaar!

For complaints, compliments, comments and threats; email: threesixtyonedegrees@yahoo.com

 
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