First Gentleman with Wilson Orhiunu
Email: babawill2000@gmail.com Twitter: @Babawilly
When the ambience is destroyed by an unwelcomed gaseous emission, with or without sonic properties, it is natural to be irritated. The nose loves smelling freshly baked loaves, perfumes and other aromas that indicate something nice is in the vicinity. Ironically, a very nice and beautiful person might have farted but that is beside the point.
‘Who killed JR?’, ‘Who framed Roger Rabbit?’ and ‘Who farted?’ are three questions that have always caught my fascination. Nay! Not three but four – the fourth question being, ‘Et tu Brute?’
When things go slightly wrong, some people just love to set up tribunals of enquiries rather than just move one. ‘Who used the last toothpaste?’, ‘Who drank the last coke?’ and ‘Who last used the toilet?’ I spent my formative years hearing questions that I wish I could answer with that memorable catch phrase of the WWE star -The Rock, which is, ‘It doesn’t matter who used the last toothpaste!’
Some people are just obsessed with making detailed painstaking investigations into minute trivialities. Like the guy who is told his team won the game by two goals and he develops a burning need to know who scored. Does that really matter (to a non-pools man)?
There is an obvious need to have a systematic review of major incidents with adverse outcomes so that points to be learnt are picked up. That is how improved safety measures can come out of disasters and ‘never again’ episodes. But, farting will never stop and can never be stopped. The need to revenge the olfactory assault with a verbal lashing is an urge that must be quenched. Some cultures view it as unacceptable to fart in polite company. The farter is expected to excuse himself, pass wind and return to polite company having relieved himself of his sulphur containing stinking emission. So, when the odour hit the nostrils 10-15 seconds after release everyone looks for the impolite guy in the room. Why did they not go out? And if it is the first class cabin, ‘why did they not go down to the economy area?
In a confined space like the cabin of an aircraft, there is nowhere to hide and breathing cannot be suspended. In addition to the sweet oxygen you need, you would be forced to inhale your fellow man’s hydrogen sulphide, methane and mercaptans all derived from beans, eggs and pop. Now, why anyone will feast on beans before a long distance flight beats me.
A polite passenger on a plane should excuse himself and make for the loo to fart. If on the inside seat, he should remember to clench the right muscles to avoid releasing his budget prematurely into the face of his neighbour as he eases himself into the aisle.
Back to polite company, say you are at a small party, and you know all the rules but suddenly you are overpowered by a fart desperate for emancipation from rectal captivity, you are stuck. You just have to release the business. Fear of people could make one hold the gases in. Now, that is not dangerous but Emperor Claudius of Ancient Rome did not share my view. He felt it would be dangerous to bottle things up, and promulgated a decree that made it ok to fart at his banquets least his trusted hands all die by self-containment. He must have saved money by making the ‘Who farted?’ in committees obsolete.
In 2011, a bill was tabled in Malawi which aimed to criminalise farting. To paraphrase the local courts bill, ‘anyone who violates the atmosphere making it noxious to the public shall be guilty of a misdemeanour’. Thankfully, that bill has gone with the wind. Imagine being sent to jail for farting in public. Who would make the initial arrest and do the preliminary investigations? Fart Police? or CSI Malawi? What would be the evidence produced in court?
Investigating farts is similar to another past-time we all have which is pondering on why we have been mistreated – the ‘Why me?’ contemplations. I have spent my fair share of hours wondering why someone did me wrong or why some other person does not find me relevant anymore. However, what I failed to realise in the past was that everyone is free to make their minds up in relation to my humble self in any way they choose. Once I am made aware of their decision to ignore me or disrespect me either directly from the horse’ mouth or through my observations such as no telephone calls, emails or unreplied texts, I have resolved to respect their choice and move on.
Circumstances change and so do people. If they feel they have outgrown me and decide to move on to better people, fine! No post-mortem, no inquisition, nothing. If I am particularly upset I would go on a two-hour run just to get the disappointment out of my system and if in a good mood, I would say quietly to myself, ‘good riddance to bad rubbish’ and eat something nice. People leave just like farts leave – better out, than in. The stink on the way out tells you they were poisoning you from within all along.
