African new year's resolutions

 

Well, it’s past New Year’s but we recently received these and thought you would enjoy the different perspectives.  It’s nice to know that Africans think fat is beautiful as several times we were told “you’re fatter” or “you’ve gained weight” after we returned from the U.S.  The other thing they say is that it is good insurance for malaria!

 

We are doing well and hope you are too.

 

S&R

 

An African New Year’s Resolution

By Jim Muir

Having spent half of my life in Africa, I am bemused by our yearly American ritual

loosely termed “New Year’s Resolutions.” To contrast, here is what I would

picture as an African set of aspirations for 2006:

 

This coming year I can only hope to regain the weight I lost last year. It was a

hungry year: drought took most of my crop and we were forced to sell our best

nanny goat to buy grain.

If my wife keeps losing weight, my neighbors will think her tuberculosis or

malaria is resurging, or worse, we have AIDS. Fat is beautiful, like young calves

grazing after the rains bring a sea of green.

My wife unfortunately lost weight last year, hoeing weeds for days. I remember

back when I first met her, attractive rolls everywhere.

 

If I could only increase the animal fat in their diet, my grandkids would be

healthier. I remember how shiny their skin was for a few weeks after we

slaughtered our last sow. Now the family is limited to consuming the wild greens

and last sacks of whole-grain millet we used to feed the pigs.

 

I plan on exercising less. Riding my rickety bicycle to work every day is killing

my old legs. My youngest child is getting skinny walking to school and back

every day. At least she has the option to attend classes. I must stop by and

compliment the teachers for being harsh and demanding on the students.

 

I wish there were some way to have fewer grandkids. Our fifth son occasionally

sends us money from the city, but that’s becoming rare since he had his seventh

child.

 

If the trees in the mountains weren’t so distant and the rains made the thatch

grow thick, I could rebuild our house. Thank goodness that, with our children

growing up, we can have a smaller house next time around.

Thank goodness I can still work and have a job. Hopefully I can stay at the same

workplace for many a year to come.

 

I hope to get as little as I can out of the government this year. In the past few

years we’ve been lucky as politicians forget about us and the military has

stopped stealing from our stored harvest.

 

I plan on staying at the same church, where I can do the most to help others. If I

move on to a bigger or more popular church, my wife and I won’t be able to

assist the young members of the congregation as much.

 

At least I can look forward to growing one year older. My hair and beard are

growing white, a sure sign of the wisdom that only years can confer. The village

respects age and the young can only dream of the experience my hard-won

wrinkles represent.