Monkey Glands

Monkey gland steak or steak with monkey gland sauce is a very South African thing. I was quite hesitant to try it out the first time, as the name itself did not appeal to my palate. I could think of many species, from gorillas, baboons to the small thieves in my in-laws’ neighborhood. Human like creatures, it’s like having the missing link on the menu – semi cannibalistic! Then glands. Not the most mouth watering part of any animal. Which glands? Armpits or groins, the menu will never tell you. With all these associations your once ravenous appetite vanishes as soon as you identify the dish on the menu. My wife convinced me to try it out though and that it had nothing to do with any monkey parts. So by now I’ve dug in a few times…

Reading a piece on the origin of the dish almost made me choke. The story starts with a scientist, Dr. Serge Abrahamovitch Vornoff (1866-1951). He caused sensation for his technique of grafting monkey testicle tissue into the testicles of men. Not just any glands in other words, but testicles! I felt seriously sick now, but still bewildered as to how the testicles could end up in a dish and become a hit?! Could "gland" be just a less repulsive cover up for a Viagra dish?

The first transplantation was so successful that Dr. Vornoff could not cope with the demand from the wealthy to arrest their advancing senility and retain former virility. Vornoff was hailed by 700 of the most leading surgeons at a congress in London for his "Revolutionary discovery of reversing the ageing process!" Quite an accomplishment and world news even today!

Vornoff set up his own monkey farm in Italy to get access to sufficient monkey balls. He occupied the entire first floor of an expensive hotel in Paris to serve as living quarters for himself, secretaries, chauffeurs and two mistresses. Vornoff injected himself on a regular basis in the hope of hard proof, fortune and fame. This must have caused swollen testicles, expectations and a pressure that must have been hard to handle! The mistresses must have been just as good for marketing as for blowing off some steam.

Dr. Vornoff was a regular visitor to the Savoy Hotel in London, and it was there that his medical experiments led to the naming of the dish Monkey Glands! It was a steak flamed with brandy in the restaurant. One of the waiters there (Bagatta), later brought the dish to Cape Town where it became popular. It is said that it had to be prepared in the restaurant to prove that there was no actual monkey glands in the dish… or testicles I assume!

Although relieved by the happy ending (of the story), I can’t help but associate this dish with monkey testicles now! Especially a type of blue balled monkeys that are quite common in Southern Africa.

My daily Apartheid

The company that I work for is not super big, but still multi in many ways! Multiple nationalities, culture, food… and quite a number of Jews also I’ve noticed. I could never pick a Jew from a crowd… fully dressed. Oh well, I see some of them wearing those small round patches on their heads. Other than that, I never really cared to find any distinct Jewish features for any reason. To me they blend in amongst the whites of the rainbow nation.

In the canteen we have different tables with hot food for lunch, really nice food. From day one I have simply picked from any table depending on what appealed to me the most at the time. I thought everybody else did also. One day when I was early there was no spoon to dish up from the tray. Naturally I helped myself and found a spoon so I could dig in. A lady tapped me on the shoulder and told me in an irritated tone that I can’t use metal (dirty I assume) spoons on the kosher table! Before any regulars at the table had a chance basically, Jonny messed up all their food! It was suddenly not so kosher anymore! Aha… so that’s why so many people at work use plastic cutlery when there are still tons of proper knives and forks to take from. Personally I think it must be damn annoying to break four plastic knives for every attempt on a piece of meat. It would ruin my meal totally!

Later I’ve learnt that there is also a halal table. Omnivore as I am, I have visited all tables. Halal too! I can’t say I have noticed any distinct kosher or halal taste. I am still blissfully unaware whether I have upset the halals or how I may have upset them. Any other groups also for that sake. I have now narrowed it down to one table where my barbaric Viking ways are accepted (as far as I’m aware of). If I move too close to either halal or kosher, I can feel the angry looks… so you’ll find me sitting down there in the corner!

In retrospect, the queues to each table have been helpful to identify and map the different groups at work. Fellow barbarians, kosher and halal at least. It’s like a small internal Apartheid going on. A buffet style group areas act! In this lunchtime segregation I am grouped together with Zulu’s and other African tribes represented. I wonder whether this can give me any BEE/Affirmative Action credits?!

Go to Hell! Sure, but where?

As a kid in Norway we used the expression “Go where the pepper grows”, meaning to the place where pepper grow (Norwegian; “Dra dit pepper’n gror!”)! This was a junior version of “Go to hell”, and one of the worst things we could throw at each other. For years I’ve been wondering why this was such a cruel thing to say? Even more so, where does pepper grow?!Firstly, nobody had any clue where this was; just that it was a very bad place! Norwegians had probably just acquired pepper and salt for cooking, and this was as adventurous as one could be in the kitchen back then. Pepper probably arrived on the same ship as the coffee beans . All we knew was that pepper was not grown in any of the nearby countries (Denmark and Sweden). That was as far as our imagination or horizon could reach. No doubt, pepper was from a place very far away!

Far away, for the purpose of sending somebody away could be good enough! If you could send this annoying person there, you should expect not to see him/her again for quite some time. Naturally though, since these orders were usually given during a fight, the bastard was not overly obedient or compelled to do so! My mindpower was under-developed at the time, so I never succeeded. It was safe to say that the moron had no clue where to head either. Pepper was not marked on any map! In fact, both parties where blissfully ignorant and unaware of the pepper’s origin or its geographical location. Why send somebody to a place you don’t know, and haven’t even confirmed as being a bad place either? It could be paradise, and far from serving your intention… There had to be some other explanation! Pepper is hot, and must come from a hot place! Hot is for some reason perceived as bad. Hell is hot (like Hell) – alas “Burn in Hell"! Hell is bad, so hot must also be bad! Any accounts of purgatory, before you even get to Hell, will tell you that it’s hot. Anything hotter than the beach in Spain (favorite holiday/roasting destination for Scandinavians) is pain and a bad place to be, no doubt! But how could we know that pepper came from a hot place? Tales from the seamen could of course have been told, retold and finally reached our ears, but not very likely. One look at the whole pepper corns can tell that they’ve been in a hot place. Roasted like straight out of Hell!

Surely we had tasted pepper, but spared of any bad burn. What the hell did we know about ring-sting?! This was of course long before chillies and jalapenos could reach us! Jalapenos and chillies are grown in hot places too, Mexico and many places around the world as far as I know. Although much hotter than pepper, we were totally oblivious of any of these chilli and jalapeno growing places. Pepper was as hot as it could knowingly get! The pepper growing area out there somewhere was the worst place imaginable. Up until recently I had no clue where to send my enemies though! A family member that lives in India came to visit short time ago. For some unknown reason she mentioned that they grow pepper there. A lifelong mystery for me was cleared up quite unexpectedly! Kerala in India to be exact! It’s probably not the only place in India or elsewhere, but at least now I have some clue where pepper is grown.

For a couple of years, we’ve been talking about going to India. Even with a long holiday, you can’t do the whole of India, but Kerala was one of our marked destinations. Without knowing it I had planned my future holiday at a place where I’ve previously wished only my worst childhood enemies! True, India had Thugs, but they don’t cause Hell anymore. How ironic?! All the Hell’s on earth that I know about and that I’ve come across are actually not bad at all! They are actually nice places and definitely not cursing material!!

However! "What happens in Hell, stays in Hell". What goes to Hell or grow there also for that matter, am I right?! As far as I know, the ticket to Hell is one way only! …and since pepper grows in India, there must be Hell on earth. Either that, or earth is in Hell. So whether I tell people to go to Hell or to the place where pepper grows, they will not be any worse off than myself! I might as well send them to Bermuda! Damn – swearing people kinda lost its sting now! Bloody useless!!

In my garden you will find chillies thriving alongside lizards and scorpions! The summers here (Pretoria, South Africa) can be hot like hell. With the recent xenophobia incidents, this is probably closer to Hell than any named Hell you will find on earth. I live here!! Somebody else’s mind power must be quite strong!

I quite like it here
Lucifer

PS! "In Rome - do like the Romans do"! When in Hell...???

Shaka Zulu revisited

During Shaka Zulu’s reign, Mzilikazi fled north to escape Shaka Zulu’s violent rule. Mzilikazi, chief of the Ndwandwe tribe that was acquired and taken under the Zulu wings, decided to set up his own kingdom. With his remaining regiment and families he settled down in Matabeleland in todays Zimbabwe, where he became the King of the Matabele. Although out of reach for Shaka Zulu, they had to face other battles. The most recent one gave them reason to flee once again, away from their own country’s leader Robert Mugabe and back to South Africa.

The ironic part is that although not a major part, some of them came all the way back to the Zulu kingdom – KwaZulu Natal! Yet again, they are hunted by Zulu’s. Over the last couple of weeks, 50-60 people have been killed and thousands chased from their homes in the black townships throughout South Africa. It’s a small minority of the Zulu’s that are behind it, but people are talking about political motives. The Inkatha Freedom Party has been mentioned as the possible instigator. Perpetrators are singing “Umshini Vami” the ANC (African National Congress) freedom song (Meaning: “Give me my machine gun”) that was one of Jacob Zuma’s trademarks during the recent election. Whether it is Mangosutho Buthelezi (Inkatha) or Jacob Zuma (ANC), as well as Robert Mugabe… They are no better than Shaka Zulu for the Zimbabweans in South African exile! They run for their lives today like they did 200 years ago to escape the Zulu Impis. But where will you run now people of Matabeleland and Zimbabwe?!

To sell a car

A few years ago I went to the BMW plant in Dingoldfing, outside Munich. You can order your car down to the tiniest details. The assembly line spews out thousands of cars every week. No two cars during that week are identical. It’s really astonishing! For the first time in my life, I bought a brand new car recently after my own specs. That means it’s time to sell the old car…
Friends and family are suddenly telling me I have to be careful. I’m just trying to sell my car?! Since when was selling a car associated with any danger? I might risk selling it slightly too cheap, but careful?!

“You must NOT meet potential buyers at malls or other places they suggest! They must come to your house, but don’t let them inside, and never ever let them take the car for a spin!”
It’s a new type of crime, the hippest car-crime method in the crime capital of the world, Johannesburg! If I can’t let them take the car for a spin, then how the hell can I sell the car? I’ve been in sales for eight years, but this is looking tough now! I would not buy a car without a test-drive!!

Another, NEW thing is that you can order your 2nd hand vehicles with detailed specs also now. The waiting time is amazingly short! “These cars are not coming out of any assembly line”; I’m thinking. A guy at work tells me he can talk to anybody in his neighborhood, and they can get him the car of his liking in no time. A registration number shortens the delivery time apparently. He sounds well connected!

Just outside Johannesburg, a man ordered his new 2nd hand car, and was waiting in anticipation recently! He was major impressed with his sons car and decided to get one like that too! The car was delivered a few days later, the same day that his son was killed in a hi-jacking incident! The car even smelt of his sons cologne, that’s how meticulous they are about matching your specs 100%!

Obviously, whether you are buying or selling a car – it’s a lethal business! Don’t ever use that term; “I’m having what she is having” when it comes to cars, unless you have a serious grudge against that person! After thinking things over, it’s probably safest to let the old car rust in the back yard. The new car will NO doubt follow me from cradle to the grave!

What defines you?

Does your work define you as a person?! Just like your parents, your upbringing, your country and local community. They are influences and tell a story about you as a person. Work is not an insignificant influence, am I right? You put down at least 1/3 of your day doing whatever you do, striving to get good at it, going from junior to senior, up the hierarchy and get sculpted more and more!

The worrying thing is that people take the choice of work a bit too lightly. I am wondering if I have fallen into this trap myself actually. This job you choose is going to change people’s perception of you forever. You should actually do a thorough analysis of each company. What would you be involved in and what core values does this company represent… history maybe, and the name that defines this company and will no doubt rub off on you! This is a “growing” concern for me these days… Browsing through some Egyptian mythology the other day I was intrigued to find a god by the same name as the company I work for – Osiris!Osiris is also called Orion the Hunter in Greek mythology and Herne the Hunter in Norse mythology and he was a great warrior! The gods walked among humans at this stage, and the reign of Osiris was a “golden age”! So far so good and I’m overjoyed and no worries at all! The name though is also connected with insemination. Orion, derived from “ourien” meaning semen, and the belt of Orion is a euphemism. In ancient times this was a penis that became erect as the year progressed. That’s a shame and a serious dysfunction. A whole year to get it up?! Seriously, you don’t want this kind of stuff to rub off on you, whether you live in the times of Viagra or not!! Must I hand in my resignation now, or should I stick it out and resort to Viagra if worst comes to worst?

Seth, the envoy of Satan, made a cedar chest (coffin) inlaid with gold, silver, ivory and lapis lazuli. Whoever fitted the chest best, could take it away! Like Cinderella, Osiris won the prize! As soon as Osiris had lied down, Seth slammed the lid on and sealed the chest. It was thrown into the Nile and washed ashore in Syria. A tree grew up and wrapped and enclosed the chest completely. Famous for its splendor it was chopped down and made into a pillar in the Syrian King’s palace. Osiris’s wife, Isis managed to locate and free him, but Seth attacked again!

This time Seth wanted to make sure that he did the job properly. He hacked Osiris to pieces, 14 in total, and spread them far apart geographically so that he could not be made whole again! Isis though as the devoted wife retrieved the pieces, puzzled him together and wrapped him up with bandages so that he could heal. This was the “first mummy”! There was just one small catch! She had found all the pieces except one – the penis! Isis, who no doubt wanted a fully functioning husband back made a golden penis and attached it to his body. I imagine this to be history’s first dildo! Dealing with clients and business associates now… do they see Jonny or do they see a mummy with a golden dildo shining through??

Isis was unable to bring Osiris fully back to life… other than sexually! With a lot of TLC she managed to work him up and make him ejaculate. So Horus was born, the new Master of the Universe! Horus killed Seth to avenge his father, whilst Osiris lived in the Underworld as its King of the Dead. No doubt there are many facets to Osiris, some desirable and some not so desirable! Can you choose or in any way influence what rubs off on you? This is crucial to me given Osiris’s history. I need advice on this… so I will keep my resignation unsigned in the drawer for now!

BTW! My gmail is getting spammed recently with “increase your size” e-mails despite the fact that I have not surfed anything remotely associated?! Is it Osiris?

Self Justice

I was burgled in November. A guy walked into my house and stole laptops and a cell phone! On his way out he greeted my domestic helper. With the domestic helper screaming, I was running outside, but could see nobody. Then I drove around for an hour, but nothing of course! Never mind the stolen goods, but the violation of my private home made me mad with anger! What if any of us surprised him and accidentally cut him off from his escape route? After two days I phoned repeatedly to get the investigating officer to the scene, so that he could have a look at video clips. He could not come because he had no vehicle to get there! Short time later I read in the newspaper that the police guys have a R100 (US$13) allowance airtime to do their necessary phone calls to investigate. No wonder I had to follow up myself!

This morning I heard a motorist had lost a cell phone in a smash’n’grab! He followed the thief and shot him dead! The police says he will be charged with murder (if they find him), but I say WELL DONE! I SALUTE YOU!! That November morning I was HIM! No gun or anything. With bare hands and blunt claws it would have been much uglier! I hope this creates a domino effect across the country with self justice incidents. Only THEN will it be a wakeup call loud enough!

The townships already have their kangaroo courts, and the police are too afraid to interfere! Now civil society has come down to a basic rawness because there is no functioning justice system. Let this be a lesson for the politicians. 2010 is coming up, and I want to see an Olympic effort to do something with the crime, police and justice system. Maybe some time in the future we won’t need kangaroo courts and self justice anymore! When I think about it, I would have been shocked and not saluted the guy, had it been in Norway.