(from "ISANA" No. 13, 1995)

Mary King
Journalist

At the time I wasn't sure whether Denis was pulling my leg or not but, as it happened, a few months later I found myself in the Ugandan capital. Denis' story had at least whet my curiosity if not quite my appetite and so I searched for this adventurous place to dine. I found it nestled in a dusty alley, just as Denis had described, not far from the heart of the city. As there was no menu and the waiter only spoke Kiswahili I gesticulated that I wanted something to eat and drink. A plate piled high with meat was proffered along with a generous side-helping of pap, the African staple of maize pulped into a tasteless stodgy mush. It was certainly nothing special to look at but the meat was surprisingly tender and succulent. But it wasn't beef, and it wasn't pork, definitely not lamb or even chicken. I was intrigued. What was it? I had to know.

Flapping my arms around, I tried to convey my query to the waiter. He looked on bemused as I mimicked everything from an ostrich, to an elephant to a crocodile. Finally, it dawned on him what I wanted to know and rather hesitantly he grabbed me by the hand and led me out through the kitchen to a small yard full of cages.

Monkeys chattered through the bars. Some observed me with interest while others gamboled with each other. They were so curious and mischievous, I thought; like young children, and I immediately regretted having had the meal. How could I have eaten one of these dear little monkeys? I felt like I had eaten somebody's baby.

Years later I have been able to look back at that incident in my life and realize that my emotions were swayed by a certain fickleness; a soft spot for animals that the British are renowned for. After all, I come from a country where it is more likely that an animal in distress will be helped than a child. More money is left in British wills each year to Cats' Homes or Dogs' Homes than is left to orphanages or foundations that help the aged or sick.

I now have no qualms about eating monkey, cat or dog - any animal domestic or otherwise unless it is a threatened species. Why should it be a greater evil to eat a cat rather than a cow, a horse rather than a pig? If the world was ruled by Hindus I would never be able to enjoy roast beef and Yorkshire pudding again. The British would be outraged if they were denied their traditional Sunday lunch. And, if Moslems ruled then a lot of people would have to kiss goodbye to ham and eggs, the standard breakfast fare in England, Australia, New Zealand, Canada and the U.S.

I really cannot imagine Westerners being bullied into following the dietary laws of India or the Arab world, and I also cannot imagine an Englishman, despite a great love for horses, pressurizing the French to give up horse meat so why is Japan being harassed over whaling and its countrymen's enjoyment of kujira?

I believe it is a mix of romanticism and racism. The western media, which is often paying lip service to its governments, would like us to believe that the Japanese are completely ruthless and endangering whales. Certainly, there are species of whale that are threatened by extinction but these are not the ones that are served up as slithers of sashimi. Japanese whalers are only interested in the minke whale, which is actually in abundance in the Antarctic Ocean. It really would not make sense for the Japanese to threaten the future of a food supply that they hold in such high esteem.

Cultural judgments are also made about the habit of eating whale, octopus, squid, anything unusual, and usually the ignorant remarks or silly jokes are made by people who regard McDonald's or Pizza Hut as offering tasty food. Kujira is without a doubt absolutely delicious.

I have enjoyed it on numerous occasions and actually have my favorite Kujira-ya in Tokyo. But when I mention eating whale meat to most Westerners, they invariably become hysterical and give me the "politically correct" line. But I realize they are lost in a fog of propaganda and lies of swayed by their romantic idealization of whales.

Whales may not be small and cuddly like kittens but to Westerners they are these great mysterious beasts of the sea. Their size alone is overwhelming; they hark back to a time when dinosaurs roamed the Earth; they are archetypal; representing Jonah and the Whale of the Bible, they conjure up stories like Moby Dick and Pinnochio.

I am not denying the whale its uniqueness or beauty or right to exist, I just feel that the Japanese have as much right to eat kujira as they do to eat shrimps.

Meanwhile, I think the West should hold a mirror up to itself and take a closer look at its green face. I do not believe that the West's stance on whaling has so much to do with its environmental concerns. I believe the West is jealous of Japan's economic, social and cultural successes. The West is green with envy and feels threatened by a nation and a region that is catching up fast. The West wants to keep a white man's status quo but it feels its power over the world slipping and therefore wants to present Japan as a bete noir. After all, we hear far less about Iceland and its dietary preference for whale. This is because the nordic country is small, remote, Caucasian and of no great threat to the World's powers while Japan is leading in a region that is ready to tip the white man's scales.

The Japanese, I believe, have the finest cuisine in the world. To eat a good Japanese meal is to take part in an art form where each dish is presented with the exquisite aesthetic; so sensitive and sensual, that is quintessential to any Japanese art tradition. Kujira, like sushi, sashimi, kabuki or kyogen, shamisen or shakuhachi, is an intrinsic part of the country's culture; an incredibly rich and profound culture that I believe much of the West feels intimated by.

Kujira is just a weapon that the West can use to make Japan look bad but I hope the Japanese will never kowtow on such a basic right.

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