Life, or something close to it.

While watching ‘Jailed Abroad’ in NGC a couple of days ago, I heard what has got to be one of the strangest, if not the strangest thing ever. The episode was about a major who goes to Sierra Leone to disarm the local rebels. When in Sierra Leone he is guided to the disarmament camp by a Colonel of the rebels. Having heard about cannibalism in Sierra Leone, the British major at the risk of being rude asks the Colonel, if he had eaten any human flesh. The colonel replies ‘Yes.’ No expression in his face, no cringe, no hesitation. A simple yes, as if the question he was asked was if he ate chicken. Having heard rumors that human flesh tastes a lot like pork, the major unable to curb his curiosity asks if it’s true, “Do we taste like pork?” The colonel looked at him with visible incredulity. This was the question he considered to be more offensive. He replies, “I do not know. I’m Muslim.” That’s what he said; he doesn’t eat pork because he’s Muslim. He has no problems with devouring human flesh, but pork? That is out of the question. What kind of a human being would eat pork? He answered these questions as if there were no other answers that could be right. There was no guilt felt at the thought that eating human flesh was wrong. What there was, was a lack of guilt at the thought that what he did was in fact right. It seemed a perfectly appropriate to him. Pork? Are you crazy, of course not. Human meat? Yes, please. The hypocrisy that is ever present in every human culture is absolutely amazing.