Cultural Diversity

The Dinka are a group of tribes in South Sudan.  They number around 4.5 million people, and constitute the largest ethnic tribe in South Sudan.  I recently encountered a National Geographic documentary while I was surfin’ the channels like a mad man. The following is a pretty good summary of what I learned in the short five minutes when I actually disengaged my opposable thumb from the ‘channel up’ button.

The Dinka are a cattle-centric society.  Their entire lives are based on the well being of their herds to the point they guard their cattle with automatic weapons.

To look at members of this tribe is to look at the cover of a National Geographic magazine.  The women are topless, however they’re topless in a way that makes you think they should put something on.  None of them really pass the pencil test, and everything points south instead of the “up and out” position which seems to be so frowned upon from the photographic editor’s desk at National Geographic.

Whenever it comes time for our Dinkan heroes to milk ol’ Bossy, she occasionally becomes reluctant to produce any milk.  Never fear though, as the Dinka have an answer to this problem.  I’m not sure how many years and generations of research went into the viability of this method.  I would expect there were some government grants involved.  I would surmise that the academia that litters the south Sudan enticed most of its untenured faculty with the promise of long term positions of professorship coupled with full vesting in retirement plans invested in moderately aggressive tax sheltered annuities to find the procedure in which a cow could be encouraged to lactate.  The individual who found this method holds a position among the Dinka much like the position which Thomas Edison holds with anyone who ever plugged something in to use electricity, or the one Bill Gates holds among anyone who has ever pushed ‘Ctrl’, ‘Alt’, and ‘Delete’ at the same time.

In order to coax the money maker to lactate, her genitalia have to be stimulated.  Now maybe any American farmer can tell you that, I don’t know.  I grew up in Wyoming, but I never spent enough time on a farm or ranch to ponder the dilemma of a stubborn cow who doesn’t want to give up the moo-juice.  I would bet my stuffed jackelope (it’s a Wyoming thing) that no American farmer has ever considered or performed the method the Dinka use.

What is that method, you ask?  How is it that the Dinka stimulate Bossy’s goodies?

It’s quite simple, actually.  Young Dinka boys are charged with the task of doing it.  In essence, the boy approaches the business end of Bossy, lifts her tail, plants his lips directly and firmly on her privates, and gives her the zerbert of her bovine life.  It will usually take a couple of shots for the milk to flow, but it appears to work.  Strangely enough, it doesn’t seem that the cows are smart enough to hold onto the goods until they have been properly stimulated.  Stupid cows.

The documentary shows this procedure in full color with no pixilation or blacked out faces and/or body parts.  The irony is that after performing the act on the cow, the boy proceeds to wipe off Bossy’s privates versus his own mouth.  At this point I was praying the boy would produce some lip balm or something, however it never happened.

It gets worse.

It seems the Dinka have fashion fads and trends as well.  One of the more popular ones is to color their hair orange.  The south Sudan being what it is, the Dinka can’t just go over to Wal-Mart and buy a bottle of hair color.  Instead, they settle for the next best thing.

Did you know there is a chemical in the urine of cattle which will turn the hair color of the Dinka to orange?

Me neither.

This procedure is quite simple as well.  There are no special caps or rubber gloves.  No cream applications are needed.  The Dinka just hold their head in the urine stream as ol’ Bossy relieves herself of the 64 ounce Big Gulp she had an hour ago.

Once my brain re-engaged itself, it fired off a high priority message to my thumb to hit any button on the remote that was accessible.  The thumb on my right hand stepped up to the call and got the job done.  Within a matter of seconds I was receiving an update on Paris, and how jail has changed her for the better.  I wonder how much better she will be.  I wonder if she would film that show of hers in the Sudan and learn how to coax a cow to lactate.  I think she could do it.  I’ve seen Paris provide a few happy endings in her tenure as a celebrity.

The five minutes I spent watching such colorful programming on my basic cable service constituted 300 seconds of my life that I will NEVER get back.  Add to that the time it has taken me to compose the summary of said event to you, my loyal reader.  I wonder if the excess rollover minutes I have on my cell phone plan can be used to reimburse the lost time.

Randy Tharp

TharpSter is a husband to one woman, a father to two kids, a master to two dogs, an occasional cubical occupant, and unable to make up his mind on an adequate theme for this website.

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