Ruminations on Cannibalism

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While I sip my tea in the local Starbucks, wishing I had something better to do, a man in CAR is being congratulated by his neighbours for burning his enemy and eating his flesh. This man is supposedly a Christian. The man he killed and ate, supposedly a Muslim, supposedly killed his wife and children. I can't suppose anything. The media is reporting on this story with horror. And fascination.

I too am fascinated. The story of the Uruguayan football players whose plane crashed in the Andes, and who survived by eating their dead comrades, has haunted me ever since i heard it. I sided with those who made the decision, because of how they made the decision, jointly and democratically, and how they honoured the remains of those they cannibalized. It was more a celebration of life than a denial.

About a year ago, there were video reports that one of the Syrian rebel groups killed their captives and then ate their hearts. My friend argued that this was a sign that the rebels did not deserve the West's support, that they were inhuman and incapable of running a country. I argued that many view eating your enemy's heart as a sign of respect. The killing, and the method used also can be a sign of respect. I was reading Joseph Boyden's Orenda at the time, which might excuse my philosophical approach. Perhaps I wouldn't feel that way if it was me on the firing line, or waiting to be beheaded with a bag over my head, or if I was a loved one watching the video. It just strikes me that there is more humanity involved in the eating of a heart. You are choosing one essential, symbolic organ of your enemy's body. Whereas burning the enemy alive and then eating his legs or arms suggests that you do not see your enemy as a human being, not worthy of a prayer or a ritual in the eating thereof.

Why am I even thinking of this on a Monday night in Starbucks? Because two people I care about are living and working in the two countries where such atrocities are taking place on a daily basis, which means that I scramble for up any news from these countries like a dog licking crumbs from the floor. So while most of the people around me are sipping lattes and moaning about the weather, their jobs or their boyfriends, I compare the degrees of inhumanity involved in two acts of cannibalism. These two acts, and my reaction, are symbolic of the emotional struggle I encounter on a daily basis. The Syrians I know are the warmest, most caring human specimens I have ever encountered. My knowledge of Central Africans is less complete, but I spent a few days there and they seemed just as warm and friendly as the Africans I know in Tanzania, South Africa and Cameroon. Does the lack of social structure, education, law and order simply allow our more animalistic nature to take over? Most writers of post apocalyptic fiction seem to think so.

I have no answers. I have no ideas on how to end the spiral of violence and destruction in Syria. I can only hope, that like an extreme weather event, it wears itself out sometime soon so they can try to pick up the pieces. But I do know the pieces won't fit together again. In CAR, I am hopeful that the violence has been short-lived in comparison to Syria and thus, the wounds may heal faster. I suspect the act noted in today's news is a symptom of a society that has been suppressed, ignored, violated and, in a sense, cannibalized by foreign powers for decades. The cannibalism of foreign powers is of a more refined nature. Over the centuries they (we) have been guilty of wiping out a country - its people, religion, culture, natural resources - without honouring the victims. That supply chain from death to dinner table is a little more convoluted. And these cannibals have usually been refined enough to use a knife and fork in the eating.

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