Last week, through some misplaced sense of duty I decided to give
my food to those in more need than myself. Such are the
afflictions of a man in his search for a higher purpose.
What a really stupid thing to do. I mean firstly the sounds of protest that ones stomach makes after eight hours of self induced starvation are so loud that the family insisted that the music be turned up to drown out, "dad's gross noise".
That's the thing about crusades, once you are on your horse and eight hours into your journey with camera's and CNN monitoring your progress, the fear isn't of failure but of what a sizable asshole you will look like if you are caught with the Dagwood stuffed into the side of your jowl while trying to look innocent and concerned for those of our less fortunate brothers and sisters. So sadly I had no option but to meet my obligation and keep my mouth wide and shut.
In my second day of deprivation I now had painful stomach cramps and the tune playing from my belly sounded similar to a tone deaf student sitar player who was suffering from a bought of really bad Bombay boxer. You know that curry you had that just won't let you forget for two days.
Ah, but I had a plan. I being a lover of sport would commandeer the TV and couch and get really involved and bad tempered watching the Cricket. That was sure to take my mind off the hunger pains and thoughts of sustenance, besides one of my worst sounds is the calypso and if anything could drown out what now seemed to be the roar from my midriff, Jamaican cannabis induced tin banging would do it.
A beautiful day in the West Indies, everything set and then oh no the camera man turns to the crowd and what are they doing, yip you guessed it, stuffing themselves. With big, fabulous hot dogs with tomato and mustard sauce dripping from the bottom of the bun. My stomach now turns it up a notch and I double up in pain. Fat fuckers I thought.
Had to get out of there so I went for a walk, and what do I smell, barbecues, yip I could imagine it, chilli boerewors (South African farmer sausage) roles, chops, chicken and sosaties (Satay's). Things were going from bad to worse, this was beyond a joke but with unwavering resolution I fight through the aromas of a South African summer Saturday afternoon and feeling slightly light headed from effort I make it out of the hazy valley into the clear air at the top of the road. My deprivation has made me incredibly weak so I put my hands on my thighs double over and suck the clean fresh air in. Yes made it.
As I raise my torso into a normal stance and look across the
road, there in front of me, is this massive billboard of a
sizzling burger and chips. I feel my head getting light whilst
the drool of hunger now threatens to escape the empty confines of
Shit, I cannot believe this, why have I never noticed this before. Not only are you hungry and starving and feeling weak from the lack of food but in the unintentional sadistic taunting of city life in South Africa, we constantly remind those that don't have, how much we do.
Try it you'll be amazed how much you have.