Steve's Yarns-- All those years growing up
and living in Oklahoma, California, Arizona, T
exas, and Africa..... Ain't done growing up 'til I get over on the other side :-)

Steve Van Nattan






An open minded African perspective of the White Race

By Steve Van Nattan
( A White African American )


It is the rather arrogant assumption of most Aryans (especially Anglo-Saxons) that our various cultures are superior to that of Africa. Anyone living along the equator of the world is looked on as someone in need, perhaps backward, often pitied. How sad.

The following is meant to be in good humor, but in about 1955, and even today in some parts of Africa, this is the secret observation of many Africans. Are we indeed as advanced as we imagine?



When an African leaves his home in the morning, he has not brushed his teeth. This is planned on purpose, for along the way he will find several varieties of bushes growing which are known as tooth brush trees. Each tree or bush will give a different flavor from the wood.

This African will break off a piece of the tree, cut it blunt with a knife or machete, and start chewing it. After a while, the end will be all worked to a pulp, and the effect is that he now has a brush with which to brush his teeth. Once he is finished with it, he will toss it into the bushes and go on about his day.

Now, the White man has a much better plan. He pays a lot of money at the store for some very special paste packaged in a collapsing tube. There are at least 50 choices of flavors, chemicals, whiteners, and brighteners designed to gag anyone. These various tooth pastes are often rather deadly and one dare not swallow them, but on the side of the tube there is a little message telling you that nine out of ten dentists think each brand is the only thing on earth that will keep your teeth from falling out of your head. Others promise to make your girl friend swoon as she smells the remains of these chemicals on your breath.

After paying extortionist prices for tooth paste which is 90% talc, a kind of rock in the ground, you will buy a tooth brush which is ergonomically designed to fit your hand perfectly and turn into a disgusting bird's nest within six days. You may buy this toy in various designs which give the impression they belong on the dash of a Ferrari. This brush then hangs in a holder or vase in the bathroom and mysteriously coats everything near it in a scum of paste and mold between uses.

Certainly, anyone can see that the Anglo Saxons have the most advanced plan.

See an African with his toothbrush



The African, that is, who lives in the bush, wears no shoes. How sad. His feet also develop heavy callouses over the years, and he even has to scrub them off with a rock at times. When an African walks down a path, he steps on a pebble from time to time, and he walks on. He only steps on any given pebble one time in his life.

The Anglo Saxons wear shoes. How advanced and civilized this is. These shoes are designed so that as the Anglo walks around all day, from time to time, he also steps on a pebble. These shoes are mysteriously designed to flip pebbles into the shoes of the wearer. The Anglo then walks on the pebble in his shoe for some time, and eventually starts saying things which we cannot include in this story. Anglo Saxons are the only advanced culture in the world who talk to rocks in their shoes. Once they have convinced the pebble in their shoe how wicked and rude it is, they stop, balance on one foot, take their shoe off, shake the pebble out on the ground, and fall over before getting the shoe back on.

Certainly, no one would imagine that the African in the bush would have a better plan.



The White Race is most genteel. They do many things to deal with their body needs in public in such a way to give dignity to various primal bodily functions. The African deals with life's issues suddenly, and walks on, and there is not much to think about later.

The African walks down the path, and when his nose seems full, he places the index finder against one nostril, turns his head, and blasts the other nostril empty on a nearby bush. No one pays any notice except the bush which may feel a bit overwhelmed. A little later, the other nostril will get the same treatment.

The Anglo Saxon is so much more advanced in this art. He puts a clean white cloth into his back pocket in the morning in preparation for the cleansing of the nose. The ladies carry a lovely cloth made of flowered print to honor their nostril's deposit.

The cloth is removed several times a day to deposit loads of snot into it while hiding behind a post or the fat lady in the check out line at the grocery store. Then the cloth full of snot is carried around in the pocket of purse all day, eventually dampening the man's trousers, giving a warm impression that snot is forever, and calling for his wife to say, "Dear, you have a damp spot on your trousers."

This cloth then needs laundering regularly, and over time, the cloth becomes yellowed and dingy and must be hidden in the hands while in use so people don't think you are a beggar and have holes in your socks as well (from pebbles in your shoes).

Again, we can see the advantage of culture and White Race attention to detail which the bush African lacks.



I am told that one can purchase a toilet in Japan for $40,000. The Anglo Saxons, and many Asians, have mastered the art of making a royal lounge of the place where they defecate. They have porcelain thrones, while Caesar had gold thrones. The Western custom is to have this toilet inside the home near the rest of the activity areas so that the aroma of human leavings can be shared with the guests at a dinner party.

This toilet is connected to some very involved plumbing which includes other fixtures for hand washing and laundering cloths. This system of pipes and traps is made so that, from time to time, the things that should flow along and be sent to the city sewer system clog instead and stop the flow. This then gives the observer the opportunity to see water run uphill as the toilet overflows. This practical arrangement provides a whole range of employment opportunities for men who specialize in moving the suspended movement on to its destination.

The destination of this highly honored effluent is sometimes a septic tank. This is a large cement tank in the yard, deeply buried in a location that everyone has forgotten, and designed to digest what the White Race was unable to digest completely. The septic tank is also designed to not digest things that do not suit its finicky tastes. This results in the septic tank backing up and stopping its task of receiving contributions from the nice toilet in the house nearby. The septic tank is designed to do this at 5 o'clock just before your dinner party guests are to arrive.

This way, your guests will arrive just as the plumber is digging up the front yard, after five experimental failures to find the septic tank, and your guests will get to read that clever and disgusting slogan the idiot has printed on the back end of his big tank truck.

Perhaps the most amazing trick that is accomplished by toilets is that they are designed to reject the process of life if they are over worked. Thus, when some klutz uses an excess of paper to cleanse himself, the toilet automatically stops passing contents onward and cleverly deposits the contents of the toilet on the floor. This way you know that you need to "plunge" the thing and clean up the mess. Many a happy soul has been awakened to the howl of Johnny in the middle of the night, "Hey, Daddy, the toilet's running over."

The backward bush African, when out and about in the countryside, the African steps behind a tree, does what he was created to do with the left overs of last nights feast, and (avoiding the stinging nettles nearby) cleanses himself with leaves which God created for this purpose, and he walks home.

Back at the village, a corn stalk out house is built over a pit with a hole in the middle of a floor over the pit. There is no flushing as in modern Anglo-Saxonia, and the paper used for cleansing need not be biodegradable. A Sears and Roebuck catalog, or last year's corn cobs, will do just fine. When the pit is full, it is topped up with dirt, and the loo is moved over a new hole nearby. A papaya tree is planted over the old hole, providing the sweetest papayas on earth.

Just think of all the many modern advancements this bush African has missed by not participating in the civilized contortions of the White Race.



Ah, the motor car. It sits there for days, phlegmatic and cool in the garage, waiting to carry you to the uttermost parts of the earth. It is loaded with features which pamper you with infinite consideration. It will tell you the outside and inside temperature, it will tell you when to add petrol, it will tell you how stupid you are to leave the door ajar, or the lights on after locking the door. My, My, and it will cool you when it is hot, or warm you when is it winter.

When the automobile is in the garage, it is ready, "good to go," it is the pinnacle of the White Race's creative motive invention. But, when you climb aboard, insert the key, and turn it, the lovely automobile simply says, "Garrrrump," and that is all you get for you effort and down payment. This means you indeed left the trunk open when you last used the car, and the trunk (boot) light has ever so gradually murdered the battery. Now, you must push the car out of the garage and beg your neighbor to bring his own car and jumper cables around, which all wise car owners have (except you). Your neighbor then starts your car for you and testily suggests that jumper cables are on sale at Wal-Mart.

The Masaai warrior in Kenya wraps up his overnight needs in a bundle, hangs them on a stick, flips the stick over his shoulder, and walks twenty miles over the plains to visit his uncle in Sultan Hamed. How utterly primitive. Think of all the information your auto passes out as you travel over the city, information which the Masaai warrior never learns. Like, "low on fuel."



The White race has perhaps no greater zeal to show creativity than in its ablutions. There are endless devices for this purpose. There is first the sink, which is found in the bath room, the kitchen, the breeze way, the garage, and in the back garden even. Sinks are so urgently part of Western life that no one ever throws them away. Discarded sinks are used as icons of progress as they sit propped against the back fence.

A well made sink must be thoughtfully and incessantly managed because it is designed to cover itself with water spots and scum whenever your back is turned. Some sinks can even grow mold right up out of the drain. Sinks also have a way of trapping hair in the drain so that one night, Johnny leaves the faucet dripping, and the sink fills with water and runs over. This gives you the opportunity to mop the floors in the middle of the night.

The White Race also has large tubs which they fill with hot and cold water in which they sink in reverie and cleanse themselves of the filth of life. They then sit in this filth which has been dissolved into the water, and wish for better things. The lingering odor of the filth that did not quite come off when they dried with the towel is then concealed by a variety expensive perfumed solutions. These solutions are marketed to make women more alluring and to make men more macho. Thus, the bath has been a success.

The alternative is the shower where the White men can wash all the filth down the drain without leaving any residue on himself, a much preferred plan. This is accomplished while his wife and daughter turn on the washing machine and the kitchen faucet and freeze his buns off. The civilized White man deals with this by roaring in rage and saying unspeakable things to the whole world. But, he is clean.

The last place of ablution is the laundry. This includes two devices, the washing machine, and the dryer. Much improvement has been engineered into these devices since the first primitive machines were invented long ago. The washing machine has all sorts of sensors now which detect the load size and carefully meter out just enough water to run over on the floor. This water is impossible for you to completely clean up because some is always under the machine which cannot be moved. This water keeps a lovely mold farm thriving under the washing machine.

The modern washing machines now have the ability to balance the load in the event that you load it unevenly. This assures that the machine balances the load in such a way to allow the machine to bang bang bang its way clear across the room before you can get there to shut it off. Woe to the idiot who sets the washing machine running and goes to bed. This is when it always goes into hip hop mode.

It is always exciting for a young man to learn to use the washing machine for the first time. It is a rite of passage which is usually learned in the laundry room at the college he attends. His first venture in this skill will result in a wardrobe enhancement when he puts his new red shirt in with his underwear and ends up with ladylike pink Fruit of the Loom jockey shorts. My, how the lads will compliment him on this innovation.

The dryer is a great invention in its own right. It is designed with all sorts of settings for every conceivable kind of clothing so that you don't over heat your undies and turn them into doll clothes which only Barbie could wear. The nice thing is that dryers are capable of figuring this out for you, and when you come to empty the dryer, the clothes are still dripping wet. This is troubling, but at least they never shrink this way.

Dryers also have a stealth feature by which they extract many of the threads in the clothing, bit by bit, and deposit them in the most obscure places in the dryer and down the tube to the outdoors. This allows the owner to periodically play a hide and seek game with light gray lint. Dryers are also very good at turning Johnny's crayons into lovely decorations in your new white frock. And they can extract the ink from the most dried up ball point pen and deposit it in Daddy's dress slacks.

Both the washer and dryer are wisely designed to break one week after the warrantee runs out.

The bush African lady, the poor abject, picks up her load of laundry, walks to the lake, and washes herself as she washes her laundry, and dries the clothes on the nearby bushes. Her pots and pans are scrubbed at the edge of the village using water and ashes from the fire, which is a mild antiseptic. Think of all the variety of activity she misses by living in the bush in Africa? Why, there are African women who have never had to mop up the floor under a washer in their whole life. So primitive!!



As you can see, we have clearly distinguished the bush African from the city African. The bush African has simply not come along into modern life as he should have.

The modern African, such as the business man and politician in Nairobi, Lusaka, or Lagos, have abandoned the bush life of course. They are now almost as advanced as any Anglo Saxon in Frankfurt of Boston. They buy Chinese washing machines, which have incomprehensible instructions, like, "speak a make small place, add soap, turn around large knob, make go half fast, and close upper door now."

They also can buy Italian, Russian, British, and American machines and automobiles which all have different sorts of bolt and nut sizes, thus giving them the opportunity to buy four times as many tools as Anglo Saxons who stayed home in Boston or London and bought locally.

Furthermore; the plumbing in African cities is modern indeed, for it stops up much more often then in Anglo Saxon countries, thus providing many more jobs for the unemployed as miles of drains are regularly dug up clear down the street and under the President's palace. Signs of progress are everywhere in African cites where one can easily fall into sewer excavations as many as three times a day. Also, much fellowship is enhanced as African city dwellers are forced to borrow the loo of their neighbors on a regular basis. This gives opportunity to speak freely and fondly about the appointed official who manages the drains of the city.

So, you can see that the bush African, the man who lingers in the back woods of the "Developing World," is lagging farther and farther behind the modern Anglo Saxons and the down town Africans.

"Say, do you have a plunger? We are having a small problem over here."




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