How to be a man.

I know things. Man things.
I'm not the type to just randomly throw unsubstantiated claims out there, but I know some things about being a man.
I have several undeniable qualifying factors.
1: I have used a chainsaw on several occasions.
2: I possess (and use) at least three non-kitchen knives.
3: I have killed and prepared the food that my family (okay, wife and dog) has been nourished with.
4: I have fixed various components by striking them. With fist and hammer, I'm not fussy.
5: I've never drank wine at a bar. Not once.

It's certainly not the complete list of my qualifications, but I feel I've given enough for all of you to come to the same conclusion: I am a man. With this in mind, I would like for a moment to shed some advice on those of the male gender who wish to one day achieve the status of manhood:

For her sake, and for your own, learn to cook.


You don't need to be Jamie Oliver. Although his man-status (BOSS 11) is well beyond mine, and is a fantastic role model in the pursuit of manhood.
But cooking skills are essential.
Let's run through the reasons.
A: Girls love it.
Seriously. A man who can cook is worth his weight in gold. Or perhaps apple cider. He's valued. Why?
You've got the feminist movement and a generation of chauvinists to thank for this. A man who can cook is perceived, I'll have you know, as sensitive, mature, and above all, not a sooky mumma's boy, or a sexist pig who think women belong in the kitchen. You may be either one of those last two. But for now, we can keep that under wraps.
Scenario one: Teenage boy, hanging out at a movie marathon... What's that, you say? No coin for pizza? Raid the host family's cupboard and BAM. Mac and cheese. Chicks love mac and cheese.
You're a handy guy. Thoughtful. And clever. This is the reputation you want to have before you're eighteen. Because the Corolla you're going to get isn't doing you any favours. Ever.
B: Guys will promote you to genius status. 
The best pizza and nachos can be made in the same kitchen that your mother made bangers and mash that you hated. You need an oven, some sort of bean based salsa, and small pieces of bacon. Layer of nachos, layer of cheese, layer of salsa, sprinkle the bacon. Repeat until you need a bigger pan. And don't use a microwave, or the chips will go soggy.
Now. Just in case there are any numptys reading this: I know there's a Domino's down the road, and if you have no sense of taste whatsoever this may be an attractive alternative. But it isn't.
Scenario two: You're nineteen, mates are inbound for football watching and beer consumption. Buy the cheap chips, good salsa, and steal the rest from the fridge. Call mate no. 1 and 2 and state the following:
"I've made awesome nachos, you bring the beer."
Your cost: $5. Your mate's cost $15. Paying off your car before him: Priceless.
C: Marriage.
Remember: It's for the lady first, the ladies second, and third, for you.
The wife gets home late one night, and you've prepared a feast. She's stoked, she'll probably do the dishes out of gratitude, and she can't tell you that you 'never cook' for at least a week. I could tell you about the sliding scale of how much mess you made compared to how thankful she is, but there are some things you should learn for yourself.
The ladies.
By now, you should have figured out that girls talk. The exact nature of their talk in regards to you will can be divided into either positive or negative.
Positive talk is a wonderful thing. If your wife's friends are talking positively about you, your wife will be thinking positive thoughts about you.
Married brethren, think about that for a minute.


Mmm.
This is a serious boon for you. Potentially life altering. Positively sex life altering. (I figure the young ones have stopped reading by now...)
There's an easy way to do this. My wife is a school teacher. When her school has a morning tea for the teachers, I produce a baked cheesecake.
And the whole staff goes freaking nuts over it.
They talk about it for months. Seriously.
They absolutely do not talk about how you're a slob, you leave clothes on the floor, spend too much money on bikes/motors/alcohol, fart in bed and hide empty glasses beside the couch.
It's all in your favour.
There's a fantastic rumour going around that baked cheesecakes are hard to make.
They're not. If you can follow instructions, you can make a baked cheesecake. Or a pavlova. Or a Black Forest Chocolate cake. You may have to buy a special pan, or extra wide tinfoil. But it's simple enough. Baking is an exact science: follow the instructions, and the awesome will follow.
The guys probably won't mention your baking. It's awkward. But the girls will talk. There will be envious citations. And then, in that beautiful moment, your wife will actually brag about you. Just to join in.
Finally, learn to cook for you.
The male mind when hungry is almost completely occupied by thoughts of food.
Hunger in the average female's mind, however, is trapped somewhere between Tiffany's breakup, her hair, that sale on this weekend, the work that's due tomorrow, the women with the purple scarf who was very rude and how she can't stand wherever you left your work boots AGAIN.
So. If you want to eat, you'd best learn to cook, or you may starve to death.

So learn to cook for you: For if a man has prepared the meal, he will never, ever have to sit down to a legume salad for dinner.


PS. Someone from Cambodia read my blog this week... May I ask who?

You gotta have faith.
Without faith, you're immobilised. Stuck.
Everyone has faith. Even the best atheists have faith.
The trouble is, only a few people seem to realise this.
Drive down a highway. Without faith in the other drivers, you'd have to pull over every time a car goes past. But you have faith in their abilities, and the engineers that designed your automobiles, and you drive on past without giving it a second thought.
Hop into an elevator. Climb into an aeroplane. Catch a train.
There is a gap growing between 'people of faith' and the modern secularised world.
The argument is that people of faith trust in something that they cannot see.
My argument is that everyone does that. All the time.
It's just that most people don't think about it.

So... who do you put your faith in?

I found my peace on a facebook page...

Our earth is an astounding place. At every new turn I'm greeted by incredible sights and incredible people, all unique, and yet still all with the same hopes and needs that the rest of us have.

But the more I learn, the more I know. And the more I wished there were some things I'd never learned.

I had a flying visit to Cambodia. In and out in a weekend. Living in KL has it's advantages.

I'm always amazed that I can get off a ninety minute flight and be a completely different world. (does that make me old? It sounds like old man talk...) KL is a sprawling metropolis, and Phnom Penh is a dusty poverty stricken city. With spider webs for power cables and a road system that resembles a drunken bar fight.

I'd done the dumb tourist thing... 

I hadn't looked into any of the past or present goings-on of the country, learned any of the language, or even written down the name of the hotel I was staying in. Traveling with a group had me relaxed.

There were a few things that stood out to me about the city. Poverty was on display for sure, but I saw stalls, marketplaces, and people buying and selling. The city would seem to be on the upward. It's a strange view, seeing a large television at the front of a shanty bar, next to a squatter camp, with a mansion towering in the background. Full circle, in one photo snap.

The traffic was so unorganised it was almost comical. Fortunately for everyone, the 'tuk tuks' aren't known for high speed prowess, so the average speeds are pretty low. God help them when they get proper highways.

I don't remember seeing any ambulances. I could probably put that down to luck.

On reflection, there was something else that stood out to me. I've been to a few asian countries now. I have a clear memory in each country of seeing old people.

Malaysia has tonnes of them. Old dudes, manning the market stalls, driving taxis. The head guard at a gated community. I remember old people in the Philipines. Not as many, but definitely there.

In the weekend I spent in Cambodia, in a city of 1.5 million, I only remember seeing one old person. It's only something I realised afterwards.

Looking at the CIA website, we find the average life expectancy of a Cambodian born today is 60 years for men, 65 for women. And we find the average age is just 23.

So. If you don't know the story, it's now time to read up on the rule of the Khmer Rouge. Particularly the years between 1975 and 1979.

What I'm referring to was genocide, on a scale Hitler would be proud of. About one third of the country died as a result of the ruling government's attempt to change society. They believed good communists came from simple peasants. So in summary, if you were rich, educated, or in any way outstanding you were killed. Or if you disobeyed any order. Foraging for food to supplement the meagre rations for example, was proof enough that you'd disregarded the ruler's wisdom in food allotment, and were therefore a traitor to your country and should be killed. They also focused on eliminating certain people groups, and we particularly set against the the younger generation, as the were seen as too educated and untrustworthy.

About two million of the people of Cambodia died. Either murdered, starved, or struck down by disease, as any western medicines were banned. And it all happened within the last thirty five years.

Count back the numbers. If you were between 15 and 35 then, you'd be between 50 and 70 now.

Scary, deeply depressing stuff.

Poverty still has the majority of the nation in it's grip.

A member of the group was a union rep, for want of a better term. He'd been in rural Cambodia for the last few weeks, negotiating a wage increase for construction workers. The backers were keen for a deal, and the wages were raised. Raised to $4.50US a week. That's up 50%. No holiday pay, sick pay, six days a week, $234 a year.

Honest work doesn't pay. Civil servants are on about $30 a month. Corruption is rife. And the child sex trade has reared it's ugly head again.

Girls being sold by their parents is commonplace. They are then kept as slaves until the 'debt' has been paid off. This debt generally increases as living expenses are added to the bill. And as the girl ages, her 'street value' decreases, and by the age of 20 she is left uneducated, abused, and diseased.

It happens to the boys, too.

It has been said that the horrors of the Khmer Rouge live on within the people, creating a moral vacuum, and a perpetuating cycle of abuse. This abuse is allowed to continue by tourists, locals, and corrupt police and government officials. Although I find it hard to use the word 'corrupt' when you're talking about people who earn in a month what I earned every week delivering newspapers when I was twelve.

Much of the prostitution has been pushed underground. It's not as blatant as it once was.

And it's not the image I left with.

Driving on a bus with the boys, we passed the scene of an accident. A young man, probably about my age, lay dead in the middle of the road.

Perhaps he fell from the back of a scooter. Perhaps he was trying to cross the road. There was no sign on the car that had hit him, only a few people, standing vigil in the centre of the road, awaiting the undertaker.

Poverty had claimed another victim. Few streetlights, no crossings. Overcrowded motorcycles and no road safety education. In a land where a human life is still very cheap.

I felt sick. But worse than that, I felt helpless. I was too late. There was nothing I could do.

How do you talk about these things? In what social settings is it appropriate to discuss infant mortality rate, mass murders, or the price the a twelve year old virgin goes for in Svay Park?

I don't want to internalise things. I don't want someone to tell me it's ok. Because it isn't.

I found rest in a post on a teenage girl's facebook page.

“At any given time we are given the power to say, 'this is not how the story will end'.”

My peace comes with a resolve: I will not forget what I have learned. I will not forget them.

And I will not allow poverty to decide the direction of a nation.

We have the technology. We just have to decide how to use it.