My life has been a long, strange journey and I have struggled to find my place in the world. I can say with confidence I’m the only man in history who’s been in the Peace Corps, the Army, the NSA, and an insane asylum. And if there is another man who can say that, if he isn’t an Eagle Scout, I am. My favorite book is the autobiography of a game warden in Africa in the 1930s called Hunter. Ever since I read it, I wanted to have a similar life of adventure.
In the spring of 2007, I graduated college as a squeaky clean ex-Mormon. I like to say I went from a Latter-day Saint to a Latter-day Ain’t. I had wanted to join the military in 2003, but a full college scholarship to study chemical engineering and the Iraq War convinced me otherwise. My brother joined the Army in 2006, so the military was off the table after that, as I did not want to stress out my parents more.
Since I’ve always been interested in travel and foreign languages, I decided a stint in the Peace Corps was the best option. Yes, the Peace Corps: Fighting Fire with Marshmallows since 1961. It was a great experience. Among other things, I learned Swahili, survived malaria, and climbed Mt Kilimanjaro. My main role was to teach math at an all-boys high school in a little village called Kibosho. The name in the local Chagga language means ‘Kibo view’. Kibo is local name for the main peak of Kilimanjaro. A famous Swahili proverb is milimia haikutani, lakini binadamu, hukutana (mountains don’t meet but people do).
What I was particularly proud of was the fact that after a year of teaching, the pass rate for my students on the national math exam hit the highest level in 12 years. After seeing the relative lack of science books in Swahili, I wrote my own and published it locally. I also distributed an electronic version for free.
The wildest experience I had there was the time I learned the meaning of the word msukule. An msukule is a person who is put under a spell by an mchawi (witchdoctor). The spell forces the victims to wake up at night and work in the mchawi’s field for a few hours before returning home with no memory of the event. When someone seems tired for no reason, local lore says the person might be an msukule.
As for the wild life there, I had some interesting encounters. There’s a kind of flying termite the locals call kumbikumbi. They gather in great swarms and you scoop them up, fry, and eat them. There’s also a creature called a kicheche, which is like a weasel. It often breaks into chicken coops to steal eggs. My neighbor had a persistent problem with one until he used a syringe to inject poison into some eggs and left the coop open. The creature took one egg and never returned. And of course there was the time I stepped on a nest of siafu, a kind of aggressive ant that tends to eat everything in their path when on the march, though they are not particularly dangerous to people.
When I was living with a host family during the initial training phase and they found out I had never slaughtered a chicken, they told me to buy one at the market. Upon my return, they handed me a knife and told me to make dinner, so I did. My host brother helped me pluck it, but I did bloodiest part.
Tanzania is generally a safe country, but like all places, it has crime. The difference is that over there, mob justice is common. Tanzanians get very angry about crime, especially theft. Thieves who are caught red-handed in public are often beaten or stoned to death on the spot. This means that it is one of the few places in the world where criminals run *toward* the police to save themselves. Once, a Norwegian visitor to the orphanage in my village was beaten and robbed in broad daylight. The villagers captured the bandit and beat him til he laid on the ground, apparently unconscious. I did my best to calm the mob while the orphanage director called the police. When they came, the bandit immediately got up and into the police car.
From time to time, all the Peace Corps volunteers in my area gathered for a holiday. One Thanksgiving featured a special guest, a turkey named Mr Delicious by his keeper. That guy spent a month feeding the turkey garlic in the hope some of the flavor linger in the meat. It was a touching moment when we all said goodbye to Mr Delicious and thanked him for his sacrifice as he went on to his glorious destiny.
Malaria was awful and I couldn’t get to a hospital because it was the monsoon season and the roads were impassable. When word of my illness spread, many people came to visit, bring food, and wish me well. It made up for all the times when I did not feel quite so welcome there. Another heart-warming moment was when the kids at the local orphanage would run out to hug me. That always made me feel like I was not a waste of flesh. I taught English to the orphans and made a website for the place to help with fundraising.
Never drank a drop of alcohol til I was 21, and I only started because my favorite restaurant (Long John Silver’s) burned down on my 21st birthday. When I saw the charred ruins, I figured I might as well try it and see what the big deal is. As luck would have it, that night a very drunk and lost college student banged on my door that night. I gave him shelter figuring he’d freeze if I turned him away. He pissed himself and had to leave in the morning with his pissed soaked clothes. You’d think that would have turned me off from drinking entirely and you’d be wrong.
The standard Peace Corps joke is that everyone who goes to Asia comes back a philosopher, everyone who goes to South America comes back a revolutionary, and everyone who goes to Africa comes back a drunk. It’s funny because it’s true, at least for me. Most tribes in Tanzania have their own brew, which is called pombe in Swahili. In my area, it was called mbege in the local language and it was made from millet and/or bananas. I tried it and it was OK. Methanol poisoning is a risk with any homemade brew, so I can’t say I recommend it.
That may be the strangest “how I started drinking” story I’ve ever heard.
The despair of not having my deep-fried popcorn shrimp and greasy hush puppies with ketchup drove me to the bottle.
Hamilton’s Last Day At Captain Hook Fish & Chips
I liked the 2 fish combo with fries and hushpuppies. Vinegar for the fries and tabasco for the fish. Dem’s good eatin’. Also, WV is the only state with pepperoni rolls for some odd reason.
https://www.bobheffner.com/pepperoniroll/
Stay with me and I’ll show you how deep the rabbit hole goes. It’s a *long* way down…
My intro to drinking was far more mundane at 15.
“Here’s some box wine, Nerf”
*one hour later*
“Your sister is really hot, Jeff. She was
nicenot totally dismissive to me that one time three years ago, I think she likes me. Can you ask her for me?”*pukes in trashcan*
Bartles and Jaymes. Same outcome.
Red or white?
Why not something wine-fluid, the rose!
Yes
Red, red wine…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PqXwslCcPws
Or Boone’s Farm imitation of it. That was my intro to alcohol. It was kind of like never seeing a movie before and then watching “Dude, Where’s My car?”
My intro was Russian vodka, in Russia.
Ooh, lucky you.
A Russian joke about drinking: The church is close, but the road is icy. The pub is far away, but I will walk carefully.
Za vazhes zdirovye!
That’s like never seeing a movie before and then watching Cannibal Holocaust.
Мне нравится твой акцент.
Mine was judicious usage of German beer in Germany. Where they teach teenagers how to drink responsibly.
Hamna shida, rafiki yangu. Labda tutaweza kuzungumza kwa lugha nyingine.
.انا متاكد بعرف اكثر روسي منك
Boone’s Farm version.
Fishing – maybe 12 or so. Lukewarm PBR on the ground by Dad.
“Can I try it?”
“Sure”
Waited about 10-12 years after that.
13yo, and it ends with a sheriff’s deputy saying “THATS not driving.” while i was passed out in the back of a pickup truck after puking spaghetti out of my nose.
Lol
My cousin: “Here, drink this 40oz bottle of Mickey’s Malt Liquor”
13 yo me: “OK”
At 14 or so, I snuck out and chugged a bottle of my father’s favorite beer – whichever crap was cheapest at the Air Force BX.
I was 19 or so when I first participated. Worked at a pizza place and the owner said we could have one Lowenbrau Dark after we cleaned everything up.
Played Galaga and Ms. Pacman after that. Then ran a few miles.
Holy crap. That was decades ago.
Also, thanks to the powers that be for giving this the green light. Those who have read it in full have had interesting feedback, even more so than from The Derponomicon.
Interesting trip so far. Most of us have lived a rather boring life.
Definitely an interesting read. Thanks Derp.
I’m not sure at that age I could have done that.
I heard the same about parts of Russia in the 90’s.
I know of at least one guy who got his watch stolen and the local military (who were starving because of food shortages) nearly beat the life out of a homeless guy and forced him to hand it back.
White Neighbor Allegedly Hoses Down Prominent Black Dinner Party Guests
You see he should have known all about pre civil rights Alabama.
The story works on many levels why NYC holds so little appeal for me. I won’t miss much of it. I encourage you to read the link for the weepy COVID hero bravery as well.
Yes, a garden hose on a dinner party is just like Birmingham and nothing like The Pink Panther.
Experienced by the Haitian immigrant plaintiff family.
Haitians are the most entitled third-wolders, in my experiences.
There’s some stiff competition.
Carried out by a no doubt goose stepping German.
And color me skeptical of this version of events. The white neighbor would have been arrested without a second thought if the guest list was as stated. There’s no way in hell some NYPD officers were just going to let that slide unless there’s a whole hell of a lot more to the story (or less).
It’s the Beast, so I’m assuming major details are missing and/or they’re just flat-out lying.
Megadittoes.
And you’re right, this story perfectly encapsulates current-year NYC.
For once, a client who is told to STFU by their attorney, and does that.
The theme song of my early childhood:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Ygs3IHJ2bM
When I was living with a host family during the initial training phase and they found out I had never slaughtered a chicken, they told me to buy one at the market. Upon my return, they handed me a knife and told me to make dinner, so I did. My host brother helped me pluck it, but I did bloodiest part.
How I picture Derpetologist
Here’s what I looked like at the time, but with a goatee and much shorter hair, like the smaller pic in the upper left:
https://platedlizard.blogspot.com/2014/03/epic-beard-time.html
I would think this is more, ah, representative:
https://momentarycinema.files.wordpress.com/2019/09/cockfighter_still-1.jpg
Off topic, but I believe I’m clear:
Finally watching Top Gun: Maverick and holy smokes does Jennifer Connely look good.
Yep. She’s amazing.
Movie was good, too. Yeah, I know it’s propaganda, but I thought it was at least entertaining propaganda
I enjoyed the hell out of that movie. It may be propaganda, but at least it entertained us, which is more than I can say for most other movies these days.
Me too. I wasn’t expecting to like it either.
Other than the gaping plot hole of “why don’t we send in a bunch of drones rather than risking some valuable aircraft and pilots”, it was rare sequel that was better than the original.
I should have married her when I had the chance.
(I never had the chance).
Dammit. Nope, I wasn’t an Eagle Scout. You got me there.
Very interesting. I look forward to more.
Lol.
I dropped out of Cub scouts after a few weeks. I didn’t do any of those other things either.
I could drive a forklift and unload trucks at age 11. Does that count?
I remember watching this scene when I was about 6, and it set the stage for the rest of my life:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OKYWXIAJKNM
It belongs in a *museum*!
I totally understand you vis-a-vis Hunter. I found high school and college boring ASF, and ended up travelling, hitchhiking, spent time in The Troubles, But I came home and my girl friend caught a case of pregnancy, so I settled down. My old travelling partner ended up hoboing, surfing around the world, and last I heard just got married in France. It’s funny, the wall came down just after we left Europe, and we would have totally gone to check that out. I sometimes wonder how it would have turned out. Oh, well.
No one?
Fine, I’ll do it. Great story at far, Derp. You make me appreciate my somewhat dull life!
https://youtu.be/oh8zcbC_Dcw?si=U61msXgDQ0X6i7J3
When I was a lad, one of my favorite authors was New Jersey stockbroker turned professional hunter Peter Hathaway Capstick. His tales of derring-do from the jungles of South America to the plains of Africa (leavened with a good deal of true-life hilarity) kept me mesmerized late into the night.
If you haven’t, and you get the chance, read anything of his that begins with Death in the _______. If you do, and you’re anything like me, you’ll want to sell all your possessions, buy an African game rifle, and catch the next jet to Namibia or where have you.
” A famous Swahili proverb is milimia haikutani, lakini binadamu, hukutana (mountains don’t meet but people do).”
Funny enough, there is a Romanian proverb “Munte cu munte se-ntâlneşte, d-apăi om cu om.” that says mountains sometimes meet, people even more so… It is said when two people go their different ways as a way of saying we will eventually meet again some day. So the Romanian opinion on mountains meeting is different than the Swahili .
Doing stuff like this did not make its way to Romania when I was young. Here it was always assumed highschool _> university (if you got in)->job. The whole sabbatical period thing – before or after university – was never a thing. Even if it was going to Africa would not have been appealing in any way. I assume the wine is bad in rural Tanzania and I am not much for pombe
I have trained the YouTube algorithm well.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vcAr0-RA4lk
Electric guitars, cartoons, Japanese, cosmic horror…the only thing missing is my favorite cover of my home state’s theme song.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C_Ndhk6b3ME
Good morning all!
Continuing Glass week with a rather long one. Unfortunately, the ‘short'(er) version cuts out before the dramatic entrance of the bass, and that’s just not right.
Interesting side note — the score for Satyagraha is notably lush with lower register strings. The space for the orchestra in the smaller hall wherein it would premier, the main hall being renovated, was too small for the usual full orchestra. Mr. Glass simply eliminated the violin section, et voila. Lush and powerful.
Satyagraha, Act 1, Scene 1.
Share and enjoy!
Hey, Beau! YouTube was kind enough yesterday to lead me to videos of yesterday’s piece (from Akhnaten) in full stage production. The Met’s, of course, was particularly spectacular! Thanks!
Yes, the Met’s production is spectacular, in the best senses of the word. Very glad you enjoyed it!
Today’s selection doesn’t offer the same sort of visual spectacle, but the aural… Oh, my!
I have both on DVD, along with Einstein on the Beach, which was my introduction to Glass mumble mumble decades ago.
Rise and shine Glibs!
Make sure your gold bars are well hidden.
🌄
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=EIuwp5PWlk8
Excellent live version 🎶🎶
the NSA, and an insane asylum
You repeat yourself.
Morning, Glibs.
On one hand, I overslept. On the other, it’s a remote day and my shift hasn’t started yet.
Good morning, U, Roat, Sean, Beau, and Derpy!
Getting back to work yesterday was relatively painless, and Tuesdays are usually pretty easy, so I’m hopeful. I am, however, a little worried about my boss’s health, given his reported weekend-long abdominal pain. Wish he’d texted me after his doctor appointment to let me know what was what. I hope no news is good news. 😟
At least he got checked out.
Is your hand numb from oversleeping on it?
BOO!!
Mornin’, reprobates. ‘sup, UCS? Extra sleep is good.
Good luck to the boss man, GT.
If that’s the case, why do I feel miserable and sluggish?
New and deadlier COVID?
Woke up at the wrong point in a sleep cycle? Insufficient Dew?
I know two things – 1: I forgot to set my alarm. 2: when I woke up I was in the middle of a dream where I was playing a video game shooting turrets in a cave system (with a pistol beyond its optimal range) listening to commentary on some other person’s run of the game
Good morning, ‘patzie! Thanks!
Troll of the century?
https://nypost.com/2023/09/25/nycs-fine-dining-elite-pranked-by-gen-zers-fake-steakhouse/
The practical joke of a white tablecloth institution was born during the pandemic, in 2021, when Mehran Jalali’s 16 housemates decided to commemorate the biweekly steak dinners he’d cook them by marking their Upper East Side home as a chop house on Google Maps.
Two years to set it up.