Bull's Balls and Man's Relectance to Change

I should say that any step toward turning into my mother should be a good one, but I seem to have caught her unwillingness to travel by bus. For her it was all about the size of the windows and whether, should the bus turn upside down in an accident, she is of a size that does not pass through small windows. For me, it’s all about toilets and the not-really-need-to-go-but-what-if? My husband has instructions to keep talking to distract me. It is not so much about what he says but the fact that he is saying it.

Yesterday’s topic was falsely labelled food. Bombay duck for example isn’t duck at all but a fish. Apologies for the spoiler if you did not know that. Rocky Mountain oysters, the husband said, are not oysters. I had to google them when I got home. Without my hearing aids there’s much about a conversation that I don’t pick up.

‘Buffalo, boar or bulls' testicles known as criadillas are breaded and fried.’ The article went on to explain that they are hard to come by in supermarkets, as hotels and various eateries tend to hog them. They might have been popular food way back in the dark ages, being cheap and widely available, but not so much these days, not in my neck of the woods. If I had lived back then with my list of won’t eats, I would have starved.

I was reading an article about experiments to change people’s attitudes to certain things. It was to do with , not  eating bull’s balls but, a test of true and false. The ones that scored highly on the test were praised to the hilt. The ones that did not do so well got a sad pat on the back and a pitying look. Then the people running the test confessed that they had made up their high score/low score lists. Not everyone given a high score had achieved one. Not all low scorers got a low score. The participants knew the lists were fabricated. Yet, over a cup of coffee, when asked how they had done, the high score list said they had done well and the low scorers? Yes, you’ve guessed it. They said they had done badly. Nothing owned up to had changed their view about their scores.

I think I could look at the whole list of nutritional elements attached to bull’s balls, but still not want to eat one. I could have them costed out and proven as a cheap meal in these days of cost of living price rises, but I still would not eat one. I could be faced with a plate where it all looks delicious and smells delicious, but still would not want to eat one. My mind is already made up and I am unwilling to change.

It makes me wonder where I have drawn my lines concerning what I will eat, or won’t, or the other lines that come to mind – what I will wear and what I won’t, where I will go and where I won’t (this comes with an interesting tale of a search for a toilet in Luxor, but I’ll save it for another time).Or who I will like and who I won’t.

I have been reading a book on my phone, ‘The Path of Change’ by Pope Francis. He talks of visiting somewhere, South Africa perhaps, where he met young people with T-shirts with the logo printed on front, ‘I am not the danger. I am in danger.’ We presume things, or have been fed things through various channels that refugees are dangerous, or Muslims are dangerous, or Jehovah Witnesses are dangerous. The truth is very different but the mind is made up and we are reluctant to change.

A local hotel where my sister lives has been hijacked by the government to house refugees. It is on the edge of the village, close to a motorway. Language, even when you speak the same one, is not understood. There is nothing there to relieve the boredom, and no opportunities to work without a permit. It might be a good idea t hand out the t-shirt, ‘I am not a danger. I am in danger.’ There have been meetings between the village people (not the pop group) and the refugees. There have been culture exchanges with different food and different music between the two groups. Maybe there are English lessons happening now. But ask a villager if they have changed their mind about the refugees? I think not. They are like the high scorer, that might actually be a low scorer but because they were on the high scorer list insist they scored highly.

Would it help if someone sat on me, forced my mouth open and pushed a Rocky Mountain oysters down my throat? Would I smile, eyes wide open, and declare it to be the best food ever? Possibly not.

Education has always been thought to be the way to change people and their opinions. But the scientific evidence is not there.

I think it must start with me, where I am, giving the right balance to the information I have, choosing to steer clear of long held prejudices, to make a change. And, when I’m proved wrong, accepting the wrongness and making the next change.