Delivering baby Cosset

In the A+E department, a Filipino nurse came to me confused, saying that a patient presented with abdominal discomfort because of a "Cosset", which she did not understand.
It turned out that the patient had inserted a rather large courgette into his anus, and it had developed a sort of stalk distocia halfway up his rectum. I tried desperately to deliver the said vegetable, virtually fisting him in the process, but was quite perturbed that the practice was not entirely unfamiliar to him. I failed to deliver it manually, despite my encouragement to "push, I can see the stalk" ,so decided to inform my surgical colleague, who was from South India.

"A cosset?" he replied.
"a bit like a cucumber but bigger", I informed him.

" Oh, vy don't you say cucumber den?"
I decided not to answer, deciding that it would be better to discover his error by personal experience. Once he had removed the green behemoth utilising various tricks and tweaks with the silverware (in department), he proudly carried it around swaddled in blue paper, declaring to all and sundry :"is there anyone who'd like a salad?

Invitation

An old Indian gentleman was very pleased that his son was finally getting married. He was so happy that he insisted on doing all the invitations himself. As you may recall, guest lists at Indian weddings in South Africa sometimes run into the thousands, so this was no small feat. The fact that he did not speak much Afrikaans did not deter him either. His plan was to welcome guests, but to assure them that there would be separate facilities for men and women.

"Ek naai vir almal" he began, blissfully unaware of his substitution of the word "naai" which referred to the act of sexual congress, for the word "nooi" which translated means to invite.

"Die jong meisies moet bo sit. Die ou vrouens onder. Ek naai vir al die mans in die hall"

Praise

This is true. I was there.

At a wedding, an aging MC was overcome with emotion after hearing a boy's recitation of an Urdu poem of praise.

"My boy" he said, "you've really touched me with your beautiful Naat*."





*Naath- urdu poem or song of praise
*naat- Afrikaans slang- literally ass-crack

Eid

"So Dad", he began. I feared the worst. Surely he's too young for the birds and the bees. These words were usually followed by a question he had no doubt spent most of his five years thinking about. Answers were not usually simple.

"How do you know which is which?". "Oh no", I thought, "he's been watching the Discovery channel again, in between devouring this week's consignment of books from the library. Also, he has been looking at Kitty rather strangely..."

"Eid. Which one's which?"

I tried very hard to disguise my relief.

"Well", I replied.

"You know on one of them, we slaughter sheep or goats."

"Yes" he nodded.

"Female goats have udders. So that's how you remember Eid-ul-Adha(uddha)"

"What about the other one?"

"You remember that there's usually lots of food to eat, after a month of fasting, don't you?"

Another nod.

"Well, that's bound to make you put on weight. Eat till you're fatter. Eid-ul-Fitr"

"Aaaah", he looked satisfied with the answer, but I could see the wheels turning.

"So Dad" he began again.

"Udders, are they...."

Shortcut Shaheed

I'm thinking of launching a range of products. All this sleep-deprivation has given me some ideas. Feedback welcome.

Shortcut Shaheed, be proud of your humility!


We have a Ramadan special on Ovanite One-Mush Miracle, for those brothers who have made a late start on growing their beard. There is still time to catch up. There are some who have tried Propecia or Regain, but this is the first formulation designed specifically for beard growth. (please be sure to read the instruction leaflet carefully, as we will not be liable for any problems related to incorrect use. We are also pleased to announce that we won our recent landmark case, and we can confirm that using our product does NOT give you hair on your palms)

We also have a unisex range of Faux-Noor products, instant glow in a bottle.
Faux-Noor, for that just-been-to-Makkah glow, without the expense or the effort.

For the ladies, there's Muskbreath lip balm, so you can smell like you're fasting, even in your week off.
Muskbreath: shh! Nobody needs to know.

There's also the Bruise-matik forehead bruise template kit (in small, medium and large sizes- please note the large is a big seller so stocks are in short supply).

We've saved the best for last.
Are you tired of stumbling about in the dark for your istinja jug? Are you tired of cold water on your bits first thing in the morning? We at Shortcut Shaheed have the answer, the StinjaMax 9000! This revolutionary design means that a jet of water is directed where you need it, when you need it. Our (patent-pending) ADMix technology means that the water is at the optimal temperature for comfort and removal of waste, with a jet powerful enough to remove the most stubborn of remnants. Even sweetcorn and whole-wheat don't stand a chance against the StinjaMax 9000!
and if you call now, you can get the StinjaMax portable, aka Lump o' Clay, free! No more cumbersome rolls of toilet paper to carry around, and no more newsprint stains on your bottom. No more looking for random bits of clay or stone when you're on a picnic.
StinjaMax. For that really clean clean.

for franchise opportunities, please leave responses in the space provided.

going to the bioscope

We didn't have malls when I was growing up. We bought our bread and milk from the corner shop and our meat from the local butcher. We had justed started watching television in 1976, and Rupert the bear, Maja the bee, Heidi and Knersis ("waar's daai hasie") kept us children entertained after school and families enjoyed badly dubbed serials like "Arsene Lupin" and "Tierbriegade" at night. The familiar themes of "Misdaad" or "Derrick" meant that it was time for bed, but I didn't mind because Derrick's eyebags were well scary. Karel Kraai and Sarel Seemonster were seen as figures of fantasy rather than political satire (a clever black crow with a floppy hat and a guitar teaching a thick Afrikaans dragon about factories, hmmm!).

Magda had big hair and asked the little bee to blow on his flower horn, so that the daisies could sing for Bennie Boekwurm to appear. On the Cape Flats, boys would wonder what it would be like to be barefoot, on a farm and white, just like Trompie, Rooie, Dawie (not forgetting Boesman the dog). We all wondered when Heksie and Koning RoseDinges would finally get together (O Griet!). Heidi stashed soft white rolls for Ouma as she did not have any teeth while Pieter spoke out of the side of his mouth to his goats Svirni, Berli and Sneeutjie.

We did not have Hi Definition or Dolby 5.1, so our trip to the local moviehouse on a Saturday afternoon was like a magical adventure. There was the lady at the ticket office with the grey hair who looked at us over her spectacles and the big bearded chap who controlled the velvet rope and looked like a titan. Once my friends tried to convince me to slip between his legs so we could save some ticket money but I was unaccustomed to such criminal activity and stood in front of him, paralysed like a deer in th proverbial headlights. The seats were covered in tacky orange fluffy stuff, seasoned with used chewing gum. The best seats were halfway up, just behind the stairs, as you could drop things on people's heads as they came in.

Movies were an interactive medium during those days. It was assumed that the protagonist (or "Roker") was able to avoid danger based on the advice of the audience, and perform superhuman feats due to their encouragement. Any hint of sexuality (ie a kiss) was met with wolf-whistles. It was not uncommon for a movie to have a standing ovation as the credits rolled or for boys to learn Kung Fu in 2 hours. I can still recall watching Drunken Master with his red nose and matted grey hair, the monks of Shaolin temple with the six burn marks on their bald heads. Some of us started pointing to our noses when referring to ourselves in a conversation. One friend wore bell-bottoms as he liked the sound his trousers made when he kicked. We all wanted to be Bruce Lee or Jackie Chan. We all wanted nunchucks.

It was always a double feature then, with some rubbish used as a garnish for the main attraction. Of course both movies needed to be edited in order to fit multiple showings, but we knew no better. Intermission was a mad dash for the toilet and the tuck shop. Guava juice, Messaris Chilli chipi and Pick a Cake pies were the favourites. The guava juice was so artificial it made you wheeze, but the plastic bottle made a perfect projectile, especially if stuffed with a Chilli Chipi packet.

At the end of the movie, time to pose or practice your moves on the marble steps and then home in time for Magrib, a bath and Dallas.

There were some memorable releases as we grew up, Die Hard (which everyone mad the mistake of reading in Afrikaans when the saw the poster for the first time), Fatal Attraction (there was no concept of age restriction), the Rocky movies which had guys running up the marble steps singing "tadat taaa, tadat taaaaaa..."

With the advent of shopping malls and cine-plexes, it was tough for the local cinemas to compete. If I can think of one event that marked the end of the golden era of independant cinema in Cape Town, it was probably what I'd like to call the Schizm. The owners of the cinema probably thought they could get in more punters if they split the building lengthways into two pizza wedge-shaped sections with screens set at a crazy angle. Basically this meant that you watched one movie but heard two soundtracks. Value for money? It didn't work.

"What do you mean you didn't need a joystick?"

Hands up all those who remember the playground game "Rover". You know, the one where everybody lined up against the fence on one side of the playground and ran to the other. The person reaching the other side last was termed "on", and was given the task of catching as many of the players who weren't as they attempted to traverse the field. People could be called in turn, and try to cross. If they were caught, they were also "on", but if they managed to cross, the entire team made a mad dash to the opposite side. Being one of the slower runners, I had to devise a method of ensuring that I didn't end up standing in the middle of the field alone every time. I didn't choose the slowest runner to try to cross solo. In fact I made a point of choosing someone who was likely to succeed and then target one of the faster chaps as they crossed en masse, hoping to increase the statistical probability of catching them. In hindsight, the game was probably a good preparation for the frequent encounters my schoolmates would have with the security forces during the school boycott years. I think the game got it's name from the call "Rover come over" which was used to invite players to try to get across the field.

There are some games, however, which had names for which I have no explanation. Piegits (or Piggy Liggy), Nickies (which was also called Kimberley Jim in some parts and Kirri Bekka in Johannesburg). There were also some songs, which in hindsight could be construed as cruel, bordering on abusive.

My sister's getting married, married, married

My sister's getting married, disma disma day.

Oh may we come to your wedding, weding, wedding

Oh may we come to your wedding disma disma day.

No sis you are too dirty, dirty, dirty

disma disma day

It is quite interesting how the theme of exclusion from weddings and using it as a basis for establishing social standing are explored at quite a young age (regular readers may recall a reference to this in a previous article "the great indian wedding part I"

Other songs have lyrics which are a bit more cryptic with regards to their origin, and any feedback would be appreciated.

Ing Ging Goga

I Figgi Nogga

I Figgi Anything

Ing Ging Goga

My question is, what exactly does the act of "Figgi-ing" entail? Also, it seems as if "Nogga" is used as a noun, but if not, does it serve to describe the act?