Irony is … putting on weight in a third world country

Being food dependent for the first time in a while
One of the strange things about working in an office/farm not close to shops is that you are completely dependent on other people as to when and where you eat (apart from using ‘persuasive techniques’ eg, “whoa, is it 2 o’clock already!” and less subtle ones like “my stomach is killing me!”).

This is a completely foreign experience to me. I realized, I’m always used to being either surrounded by a bevy of healthy and unhealthy foods (like the always-stocked fridge and pantry at home) or easily being able to get it – living next to Woolworths and Baker’s Delight at home hasn’t helped – but there’s always a food court nearby, at worst, dodgy pizza rolls at the petrol station (mmmm … fattening). I’m not used to my host family skipping breakfast and me not being able to just go out and buy a steak (or two) or freshly cut fruit. Or me missing dinner and there being nowhere to go.


… I don’t like it!
I don’t think I realized this before: I really don’t enjoy being hungry. In accordance with Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, it dominates my thinking, my dreams (whoa, those anti-malaria drugs have some interesting side effects!) … well, occasionally anyway.

And so, I’ve found myself unconsciously reverting to ‘survival techniques’. That is, eating whatever I can, whenever I can: eating lots when I get to the shops, who knows, I may not eat again for 4 hours? (Shock horror!) This is not a wise strategy for health, particularly as everythinhere is either hi-carb, hi-fat, or both (it took me a while to work out why there’s no Diet Coke in Chimoio, but it became clear after I thought about it for a bit). Luckily there are no scales in Chimoio, otherwise I’d probably be feeling even worse than my current yo-yo-ing between feeling bloated and hungry …


You’re probably thinking – “John, you spoilt little rich kid”
... Which may not be incorrect.

Am going back to the farm today to spend my last 2 days (for this month anyway) in Chimoio.

Despite me "roughing it" on the farm, with no running hot water! - I can´t avoid the fact that, for the 5 of us on the farm, there are 5 full time maids/guards/dudes paid less than 1 US dollar a day who take care of us.

One guy´s job is to keep water boiling in this metal drum (i´ll put a photo of it up later) for when we want to have a hot bath. When we want one, we shout out to him and he brings the water over through a few trips with a bucket.

The thing about this guy is, he´s desparately afraid of the family dog (as am I, unfortunately, the dog doesn´t reciprocate those same wishes for distance). The dog has bitten him once and hates his guts. Yet every time he needs to make a trip with the hot water into the house, many times a night, he has to face that dog.

Seeing this brings the equality of the world out to me in a strange way. Big dogs scare me (in a manly kind of way, of course) ... and I wouldn´t take any job that required me to walk past such a nemesis so often. This guy has to, every day.

God bless,
john