WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 16, 2008
In an effort to teach my kids that life exists beyond their technology-ridden, middle-class, Midwest lifestyle, we’ve been watching the Travel Channel’s program: Tribal Life – Meet the Namale. The Namale tribe lives on the island of Vanuatu in the South Pacific. The men wear only a penis sheath made of grass (called a nambas – if you’re interested) attached to a g-string. The women are topless and wear grass skirts. And they live in – you guessed it – grass huts. They live off the land and the kids actually do consider sticks and frogs interactive toys (see last post) and they refuse to adopt a modern lifestyle.
My kids are fascinated with the show and I like it too. But I’ve learned that some things are universal. See the young man in the photo above? Well, he’s married and for the first time, he and his bride were going to attend an all-tribal bash where the women and men dance (jumping up and down in itchy, grass skirts and penis sheaths). They spend seven years getting ready for this party. The groom was really excited to go. Unfortunately, his young bride had a bad headache. (No, this isn’t the universal part yet.)
So, he went without her – expecting her to catch up later (I know it sounds familiar, but not yet…wait for it…). Unfortunately for the young woman, she developed a fever and had to be evacuated to a hospital where it turned out she had malaria.
Cut back to the party, where her husband has a sad face and he says, “My wife didn’t get to see me dance. I wanted her to watch me dance.” (This is it. Go ahead and say ‘I knew it!’)
Yup. That’s right. His wife has #$#$%&*! MALARIA and all he can think about is that he won’t be able to strut in front of her. Malaria! Unless I’m wrong – she’ll suffer bouts of this illness on and off for the rest of her life! But no, our proud peacock of a husband cares only that she didn’t have the chance to gaze at him in all his glory.
I think this is something that starts in men very young. My seven-year-old son, since he could talk, has said nothing but “look at me!” over and over and over and over…well, you get the idea. Either I have to watch him do the same somersault in the living room twenty times, watch him swim in the pool ad nauseum, admire his video gaming skills or watch him to see how much he eats – it drives me nuts. My daughter isn’t the same way. But for some reason, boys insist on being watched all the time, and unfortunately turn into husbands who insist on being watched all the time. What the hell is up with that?
And while it was good to know it happens everywhere, from the jungles of isolated islands to industrial nations – it isn’t any less annoying. The only difference here, is that it’s too damn cold to wear a grass penis sheath. And I think that’s a good thing.