Sunday, December 11, 2011
Allergic to Peanuts
It was Thanksgiving recently, and in America we all took in the chance to thank God for small mercies. My diligent work on a decadent German Chocolate cake -I have to admit-surprised even me. As we sat around the dinner table, the topic of food allergies came up. As it turns out, my niece -who has a severe allergy to peanuts- was determined to taste the cake, which has pecans in it. So as the topic of slamming an injection in her chest went on, we diverted to the prevalence of peanut allergies amongst kids. In my daughter's school, parents have been advised not to send their children to school with any peanut products. We are raising children who have severe allergies to peanuts. Where did this come from? Why now? It's becoming normal to see food labels that indicate - made with machinery used to process food with nuts. What is alarming is that there seems to be very little root information as to a cause. So for my own curiosity I did a little research and found some things that were interesting.
WebMD reports:
"One theory for the rise, the hygiene hypothesis, holds that “we’ve become very good at preventing natural infections, and the immune system is not chewing on things it would normally be chewing on,” Sicherer tells WebMD. “We’re not living on farms anymore, we have lots of antibiotics, but seeing an increase means that something has changed in the environment.”
The theory suggests that “clean living” and more medication use leaves immune systems in a condition that is more prone to attack harmless proteins, such as those in foods, pollens, and animal dander.
The increase also could be related, he says, to the way peanuts are processed.
“We roast peanuts, and potentially, roasting it makes a more allergenic food out of it,” he says. “Some people theorize that the oil in peanut butter might make it more allergenic. Roasting peanuts changes the sugar and makes the protein more stable to digestion and easier for the immune system to attack."
Things that we have introduced or removed from our food ecosystems are now becoming dangerous to us. Life as it would appear, is a continuously evolving event. Organisms, cells, bacteria, mutate, adapt and change. Our bodies are in a constantly changing state as they were built to adapt to changes in the environment. These changes can be positive or negative and allergies are an example of a positive reaction turning negative.
What is ultimately clear is that we need to start being more conscious of what we put in our bodies and the possible long term effects of improper diet. Films such as, 'Food Inc' and 'Forks over Knives' provide invaluable information about why we need to become vigilant about our diet. Sadly, our very own government is not as adamant in this fight as big commerce rides on the shoulders of all the additives and rubbish that we find in food today. So unfortunately, Epipens will become as much a part of our culture as diapers.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Made of Gold
So today while picking up my medicine from my neighborhood pharmacist, he tells me that my name means "Made of Gold" in Hindi. Never heard that one before and it caused me to pause. "Made of Gold," boy have I not felt anywhere near to that in years. Always special, just never "Made of Gold". The Sesame street song come to mind, "Who are the people in your neighborhood?" Well my pharmacist's a person in my neighborhood, and he made me feel good, feel special.
Now, I know what my name means in Lunda and I'm not sure if what he says is true (I will be checking), however he had no other reason to say it except we are almost on first name basis. Sad to say I have needed prescription medication for so long that I developed a relationship with the Pharmacist, but the fact that his words got me on a day like today is a blessing. I am learning that there is critical value in positive engagement.
Today I purposed myself to have lunch with a friend that I have treated like an acquaintance for years. We have always spoken about getting together and a few days ago I asked him to break bread with me, and so we sat in Pei Wei and made friendly conversation. It made me realize that my walk has been a lonely one, void of true connection and remembrance of the special things about me. I have been told by many just how they appreciate me and yet I still suffer from the pangs of loneliness that have been fueled by a life of unappreciated achievement.
Yet when the Indian Pharmacist told me "Made of Gold," my mind connected. Yes, I am. I need to remember that.
Now, I know what my name means in Lunda and I'm not sure if what he says is true (I will be checking), however he had no other reason to say it except we are almost on first name basis. Sad to say I have needed prescription medication for so long that I developed a relationship with the Pharmacist, but the fact that his words got me on a day like today is a blessing. I am learning that there is critical value in positive engagement.
Today I purposed myself to have lunch with a friend that I have treated like an acquaintance for years. We have always spoken about getting together and a few days ago I asked him to break bread with me, and so we sat in Pei Wei and made friendly conversation. It made me realize that my walk has been a lonely one, void of true connection and remembrance of the special things about me. I have been told by many just how they appreciate me and yet I still suffer from the pangs of loneliness that have been fueled by a life of unappreciated achievement.
Yet when the Indian Pharmacist told me "Made of Gold," my mind connected. Yes, I am. I need to remember that.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Walk don't Run
Sometimes we find ourselves in the places where our journey is limited by space, narrow paths, traffic and natural obstacles. Trying to navigate our way through these times while at full tilt is not only dangerous, but a sure way to get injured. There are those of us, driven by adrenaline, endorphin addicted, who see no fun in the slow process required for safe passage. No, we would rather charge forth, testing our mettle, our thinking ability, our reflexes against the very sharp edged obstacles in our way. The journey is not thrilling if not for the constant ducking and turning.
Yet, what good, is running if you never walk? The knowledge that being safe and not having hurt yourself in your navigation, must always outweigh the urge to run, the desire to hasten through. For that love for the unnecessary bumps, bruises and cuts that leave lingering marks is a dysfunction. It can't be normal, to want to hurt oneself on the journey. The scars remain, calloused and deeply etched, having changed perhaps the very nature of our gait.
In my own life, as I meander through, I have done a lot of running. Sometimes blindly through prickly thorns, ending up with ripped clothes, bloody cuts and painful memories. So somewhere in this journey, I have gained the resolve to walk and not run.
Yet, what good, is running if you never walk? The knowledge that being safe and not having hurt yourself in your navigation, must always outweigh the urge to run, the desire to hasten through. For that love for the unnecessary bumps, bruises and cuts that leave lingering marks is a dysfunction. It can't be normal, to want to hurt oneself on the journey. The scars remain, calloused and deeply etched, having changed perhaps the very nature of our gait.
In my own life, as I meander through, I have done a lot of running. Sometimes blindly through prickly thorns, ending up with ripped clothes, bloody cuts and painful memories. So somewhere in this journey, I have gained the resolve to walk and not run.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Technology Freak
So my boss walks in the other day and says, "I bought you a Blackberry Playbook," and gives me this little device that's prancing around as a miniature IPAD. So standing there I can't say I was not pleased and yet something in the back of my mind says, "What the heck are you up to?" I mean this is corporate America and quite frankly, there's nothing for nothing. Now the little boy in me is doing loops because I have been scouting IPADs and have been inclined to dismiss that inner voice screaming, "You need this toy!" Of course I have to ignore him, because he's the same fool that has had me have one last drink, buy one more thing, or say one more rude word to the guy three times my size.
I accept the gift and soon realize that its primary function is to be an extension of my Blackberry phone, see now I can do all the functions of my phone on the Playbook, thus relegating my phone to modem status. However, I spend all night and part of my next work-day discovering this. So much for a productive day, well, my boss gave it to me and in my estimation, he's getting his money's worth. So as I scroll, slide and tap on this thing, I realize that my desk is a mass of cables. I have my laptop open and the USB cable for the Playbook connected to it on one port, another cable connected to the other port with my Blackberry charging, as I try to synchronize the media files to my laptop so I can transfer them to the Playbook. There's a cable going to the printer which I can't connect to because I'm using the two ports on the laptop for my Blackberry gadgets and I have to buy another peripheral device so I can daisy chain these things together. I might need Fire wire.
So as I take off my newly bought T1 Bluetooth headset to see if I can synchronize it with my Playbook, realize that it didn't come with a cable that will fit the port on the Playbook and trying to Bluetooth it isn't cutting it. Never mind that the configuration says it's discoverable, I can't get the dang thing to connect and so therefore I have to rely on the Playbook speakers which means I have to fumble around for headphones. The speakers are not too shabby, but what good is this low sound when I'm sure the IPAD has better sound? Anyway, I am quick to connect it to the school network via a request to our resident technician, now the Playbook is usable in all areas of our building, I am in heaven.
I am still not sure why he's bought this toy for me, and I guess I shouldn't ask. My bag is rather full right now, I have two headsets, about five USB cables, a wireless mouse, wireless overhead projector remote control, IPOD, Playbook and all the necessary power cables. The way I see it, I'm just an average guy.I mean don't all guys have all this stuff? How do they survive otherwise? Even though Blackberry have made the device and seem to be lagging on applications, this little thing will do for now. It's really not very much use to me except as a distraction in places where I don't want to engage anyone, like the office. So till I figure out exactly what this bribe is about, I need a bigger bag.
I accept the gift and soon realize that its primary function is to be an extension of my Blackberry phone, see now I can do all the functions of my phone on the Playbook, thus relegating my phone to modem status. However, I spend all night and part of my next work-day discovering this. So much for a productive day, well, my boss gave it to me and in my estimation, he's getting his money's worth. So as I scroll, slide and tap on this thing, I realize that my desk is a mass of cables. I have my laptop open and the USB cable for the Playbook connected to it on one port, another cable connected to the other port with my Blackberry charging, as I try to synchronize the media files to my laptop so I can transfer them to the Playbook. There's a cable going to the printer which I can't connect to because I'm using the two ports on the laptop for my Blackberry gadgets and I have to buy another peripheral device so I can daisy chain these things together. I might need Fire wire.
So as I take off my newly bought T1 Bluetooth headset to see if I can synchronize it with my Playbook, realize that it didn't come with a cable that will fit the port on the Playbook and trying to Bluetooth it isn't cutting it. Never mind that the configuration says it's discoverable, I can't get the dang thing to connect and so therefore I have to rely on the Playbook speakers which means I have to fumble around for headphones. The speakers are not too shabby, but what good is this low sound when I'm sure the IPAD has better sound? Anyway, I am quick to connect it to the school network via a request to our resident technician, now the Playbook is usable in all areas of our building, I am in heaven.
I am still not sure why he's bought this toy for me, and I guess I shouldn't ask. My bag is rather full right now, I have two headsets, about five USB cables, a wireless mouse, wireless overhead projector remote control, IPOD, Playbook and all the necessary power cables. The way I see it, I'm just an average guy.I mean don't all guys have all this stuff? How do they survive otherwise? Even though Blackberry have made the device and seem to be lagging on applications, this little thing will do for now. It's really not very much use to me except as a distraction in places where I don't want to engage anyone, like the office. So till I figure out exactly what this bribe is about, I need a bigger bag.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Rap Response to Zambian Rappers
I can officially say that I have had my fill of wanna-be Zambian rappers with their falsified American accents working so hard to be what they shouldn't. Though I admire their talents, I believe that there is a misguided movement to disrespect our cultural values and inherit what is clearly not even admirable in America. Knowing that sometime in order to reach people you have to use their medium, I have written my response to this musical foolishness as a rap:
Here you again, spouting that stuff
Guys from Chawama, Kanyama acting tough,
like you are kin with Osama.
Trippin of a blunt, acting like a .......
Dag....did I almost say that?
Gotta know this man's supreme,
living true not like you kids spitting dreams.
You flossin' like you be bossin',
your names should be in neon lights right under fakin'.
Tryna be American? How can you, when you squawking like
a doped up Pelican.
Making vidoes where you look like criminals,when the closest
you've been to being a gangsta is when you rode that bus to Mansa.
Claiming to be a Zambian, droppin the LSK in your rhyming,
but we raised you to be classy, not to spew lines that are trashy.
I hear your fake accents, tryna mimic the lines from the US.
Your stuff sounds useless, so weak that all you can do is cuss.
Abana balechinchila lelo inshiku, Yo' mama didn't come from no ghetto.
Note to self, make sure these fake Zambians get the memo.
See we just want you to be original, stop copying stuff you can't follow,
munga dimwe nyama ya mumusebo.
Here's a taste of logic, that makes your inswa eating butts look apologetic.
See I'm not a skeptic, I'm affected, so silence isn't an option, because your actions are spastic.
See I can do this with no effort, spew lyrics like a prophet.
Na bana Mulenga nabaishiba that you're up against my static, about to
be scorched by words that are hypnotic.
You've pissed of someone that is just classic, you're in my house, so get ready for
the fantastic.
I'll reduce your raps to helium, change your voice like back at Jacaranda with Ms. Panambelum.
See I won't stand by, can't stand by, till all you pee-wee rappers say bye, bye.
Seeing as you've chosen to be vulgar, I insist you continue in the vernacular.
Ati nembwa iwutukila amafi, your raps are so whack and raunchy, step back, you got my ears all itchy.
Girls in your videos butt shaking? How you get a Zambian girl to act like a donkey?
Not exactly the call of a rocket scientist, that's actually the move of a prostitute.
You passed the test, you lack finesse, step back, and take a rest.
Let me break it down for you in new lingo, put a small hurting on your verbal ego. The profundity of your erudition so far exceeds my ability to comprehend that it is obligatory for you to elucidate. And with that, I'm done, feel free to enunciate.
Here you again, spouting that stuff
Guys from Chawama, Kanyama acting tough,
like you are kin with Osama.
Trippin of a blunt, acting like a .......
Dag....did I almost say that?
Gotta know this man's supreme,
living true not like you kids spitting dreams.
You flossin' like you be bossin',
your names should be in neon lights right under fakin'.
Tryna be American? How can you, when you squawking like
a doped up Pelican.
Making vidoes where you look like criminals,when the closest
you've been to being a gangsta is when you rode that bus to Mansa.
Claiming to be a Zambian, droppin the LSK in your rhyming,
but we raised you to be classy, not to spew lines that are trashy.
I hear your fake accents, tryna mimic the lines from the US.
Your stuff sounds useless, so weak that all you can do is cuss.
Abana balechinchila lelo inshiku, Yo' mama didn't come from no ghetto.
Note to self, make sure these fake Zambians get the memo.
See we just want you to be original, stop copying stuff you can't follow,
munga dimwe nyama ya mumusebo.
Here's a taste of logic, that makes your inswa eating butts look apologetic.
See I'm not a skeptic, I'm affected, so silence isn't an option, because your actions are spastic.
See I can do this with no effort, spew lyrics like a prophet.
Na bana Mulenga nabaishiba that you're up against my static, about to
be scorched by words that are hypnotic.
You've pissed of someone that is just classic, you're in my house, so get ready for
the fantastic.
I'll reduce your raps to helium, change your voice like back at Jacaranda with Ms. Panambelum.
See I won't stand by, can't stand by, till all you pee-wee rappers say bye, bye.
Seeing as you've chosen to be vulgar, I insist you continue in the vernacular.
Ati nembwa iwutukila amafi, your raps are so whack and raunchy, step back, you got my ears all itchy.
Girls in your videos butt shaking? How you get a Zambian girl to act like a donkey?
Not exactly the call of a rocket scientist, that's actually the move of a prostitute.
You passed the test, you lack finesse, step back, and take a rest.
Let me break it down for you in new lingo, put a small hurting on your verbal ego. The profundity of your erudition so far exceeds my ability to comprehend that it is obligatory for you to elucidate. And with that, I'm done, feel free to enunciate.
Friday, October 29, 2010
What happened to love songs?
So the other day, a friend of mine posted on Face Book, his feelings about a new song by Keith Sweat and Joe, called Test drive. According to him,it's the ultimate ballad. Being familiar with the lyrics for this song, I spent the next few days wondering if for some reason, I had missed the memo on, "How you sweet talk women in the new millennium."
This tune has a very catchy beat and an engaging hook, but the lyrics are awe inspiring, with deep loving and reflective verses like; "Out of all the cars, in the yard. You're the one a player wants. Got a big bank girl, I can buy the parts," Test Drive goes where other love songs fail. I mean songs by Luther Vandross with lines like; "Love has truly, been good to me, not even one sad day, or minute have I had since you came my way," are eclipsed by Test Drive's reflective; "I know you thinkin, I'm talkin about a car, but baby I'm not I'm talking about us."
Evidently there is something us Gen Xer's are missing. The way to a woman's heart in the Gen Y diaspora does not meander through her brain and down towards her heart. It's not captured by the ears and masticated for filtration to be deciphered in code. No, you've got to reach right down and grab her panties. So, saying, "Love has a mind of it's own, it comes at the strangest times, somehow it takes control, so try and try but it won't let me go, no matter what I do or where I go your love's got a hold on me," (Glenn Jones) is inadequate today. No, with today's girls you've got to go for the jugular; "You make me wanna test drive -It's hot up in here I'm a take off your top- You make me wanna test drive - Got my feet on the gas and we won't ever stop- You make me wanna test drive - Just put the roof back and let your panties drop- Down, down, touch the ground." That's the stuff that gets them wild.
You see what's most frustrating is that a lot of today's young crooners have these magnificent voices, Tyrese, Tank, Joe, Avant, Ginuwine; and yet their choice of material continues to perpetuate the unsophisticated palate of Ghetto romance. In Tyrese's immortal words, "You know we be tearing it up, breaking @#$% that Ghetto love. So, how you gonna act like that?" I mean how could Teddy Pendergrass even think of singing, "Think I better let it go, looks like another love TKO?" When girls today are scrambling for songs that talk about; "I'm what you need, you need a lift girl, I'll be the seat. Come on and sit on it, ride on it, but don't you move from it."
I feel like I'm in a Barry White time warp. Caught up in his line, "Tell me a secret, I just don't wanna know about any secret but I wanna know about that special secret." I'm still glowing from knowing that, "Love won't let me wait, because the time is right, to spend the night, in a wonderland. So move a little close to me, you owe it to yourself." That's what I remember trying to conjugate as I navigated my way around a woman's head. Where did those words go?
Now, we are bombarded with; I keep it comin so my wood-grain telling me to go North, go East, Go West, Go South, down. Ridin in your Cadillac,keep your feet by the brake if you ain't ready yet." Lord, you took Luther away for some reason and just when we thought Brian McKnight might help us with, "My shattered dreams and broken heart are mending on the shelf. I saw you standing close, holding hands with someone else," money took his creative spirit and made him sing rubbish. Please help us, because somewhere, even my brothers that I grew up with, those who should remember what a true love song should be about, are now touting Test Drive.
This tune has a very catchy beat and an engaging hook, but the lyrics are awe inspiring, with deep loving and reflective verses like; "Out of all the cars, in the yard. You're the one a player wants. Got a big bank girl, I can buy the parts," Test Drive goes where other love songs fail. I mean songs by Luther Vandross with lines like; "Love has truly, been good to me, not even one sad day, or minute have I had since you came my way," are eclipsed by Test Drive's reflective; "I know you thinkin, I'm talkin about a car, but baby I'm not I'm talking about us."
Evidently there is something us Gen Xer's are missing. The way to a woman's heart in the Gen Y diaspora does not meander through her brain and down towards her heart. It's not captured by the ears and masticated for filtration to be deciphered in code. No, you've got to reach right down and grab her panties. So, saying, "Love has a mind of it's own, it comes at the strangest times, somehow it takes control, so try and try but it won't let me go, no matter what I do or where I go your love's got a hold on me," (Glenn Jones) is inadequate today. No, with today's girls you've got to go for the jugular; "You make me wanna test drive -It's hot up in here I'm a take off your top- You make me wanna test drive - Got my feet on the gas and we won't ever stop- You make me wanna test drive - Just put the roof back and let your panties drop- Down, down, touch the ground." That's the stuff that gets them wild.
You see what's most frustrating is that a lot of today's young crooners have these magnificent voices, Tyrese, Tank, Joe, Avant, Ginuwine; and yet their choice of material continues to perpetuate the unsophisticated palate of Ghetto romance. In Tyrese's immortal words, "You know we be tearing it up, breaking @#$% that Ghetto love. So, how you gonna act like that?" I mean how could Teddy Pendergrass even think of singing, "Think I better let it go, looks like another love TKO?" When girls today are scrambling for songs that talk about; "I'm what you need, you need a lift girl, I'll be the seat. Come on and sit on it, ride on it, but don't you move from it."
I feel like I'm in a Barry White time warp. Caught up in his line, "Tell me a secret, I just don't wanna know about any secret but I wanna know about that special secret." I'm still glowing from knowing that, "Love won't let me wait, because the time is right, to spend the night, in a wonderland. So move a little close to me, you owe it to yourself." That's what I remember trying to conjugate as I navigated my way around a woman's head. Where did those words go?
Now, we are bombarded with; I keep it comin so my wood-grain telling me to go North, go East, Go West, Go South, down. Ridin in your Cadillac,keep your feet by the brake if you ain't ready yet." Lord, you took Luther away for some reason and just when we thought Brian McKnight might help us with, "My shattered dreams and broken heart are mending on the shelf. I saw you standing close, holding hands with someone else," money took his creative spirit and made him sing rubbish. Please help us, because somewhere, even my brothers that I grew up with, those who should remember what a true love song should be about, are now touting Test Drive.
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