Well, so, another shed load of our money going to Africa to help ‘control’ the climate. A country that, according to gimme
adverts, can’t even dig a hole to find clean water. One wonders where that money will end up eh? And no money to keep our own elderly a tad warm for a weekend.
Anyhoo, let’s give that no never mind but it did jog my fading, cold memory to a very old post wot’s below:
You may well remember this very old joke which I believe, back in the day, related to a missionary but I’ve update it somewhat to feature a charity worker, let’s call
him Gavin, who was dispatched to a remote African village as a stepping stone to informing all the tribes in that area of the new religion; man-made climate change and also to persuade the locals to stop hunting the ‘endangered’
Wuguly that are the prime source of meat and clothing thereabouts. Also to stop the prolific use of open fires for cooking Wuguly meat.
He was to explain that the charity would fund the felling of vast tracts of the jungle so’s to install solar panel arrays. The fact that these tracts of jungle were the main
habitat and breeding grounds of the ‘endangered’ Wuguly and the source of the two veg that complements Wuguly meat, got lost in the charity’s need to be seen to be doing something and to keep donations rolling
in.
Gavin, with a locally hired translator, duly rolled into the village in the charity 4 x 4 monster motor and had a meeting with the chief were Gavin, via the translator, laid out
the scheme. At the end of each statement relating to the stopping of hunting the majestic Wuguly, to stop using open fires and the plan to clear the surrounding jungle and such, all to prevent man-made climate change, the
chief threw his arms in the air, smiled broadly and stamped his feet while shouting, “Umbala!! Umbala!!” Gavin then introduced the chief to the delights of yogurt to yet further enthusiastic shouts of, “Umbala!!”
Gavin, much heartened by this was highly delighted when the chief said he would assemble the whole tribe within the hour so they could all hear the cunning plan and all try a tub of yogurt. This came to pass and the entire
tribe acted in a similar manner to the chief upon hearing each statement from Gavin. Much stamping of feet, arm waving, laughing and shouting of, “Umbala!! Umbala!!”
Gladdened by his apparent success, Gavin and his translator walked through the village towards their mega emissions ride to go back to ‘civilisation’.
As they passed one big hut Gavin was taken by surprise by the loud noises emanating from within and asked his companion what all the to-do was about.
“Ah, that’s
where they keep the live Wugulies they’ve trapped until they’re ready to kill ‘em and eat ‘em when hunting isn’t going too well.”
“Really? Perfect! I need photos for our heart
tugging TV begging adverts. Let me get in there and...”
The translator quickly grabbed Gavin’s arm stopping him in his tracks. “Whoa!! Don’t go in there Gav! If you do you’ll find yourself
up to your neck in Wuguly umbala.”
Thus the inner joy Gavin felt for a job well done, rapidly faded into the world of reality...
Climate change? What a load of utter umbala eh?
Quote; Mark Twain.
“Go to Heaven for the climate, Hell for the company.”
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