A transparent future
Heutzutage treiben Verschwörungstheorien immer mehr Blüten. Manche kann man auch mit Humor sehen – so wie unser Kolumnist.
Do we need more technology to help us communicate? In fact, it seems we do. A whole new generation of it. The fifth, in fact; after 3G and 4G, our mobile phone companies have now built parts of their 5G networks, and are waiting for us all to buy phones we can use with them.
The name “fifth generation” sounds impressive. Will Vodafone’s fifth be like Beethoven’s, admired still in 250 years’ time? It will certainly be faster than the old ones. Goodbye to the adagio, moderato, allegro and vivace of generations 1, 2, 3 and 4: we’ll now get presto agitato.
But there’s more to it than just speed. 5G mobile technology will bring us more data, more downloads, more detail, but also more doubt. There’s been criticism — and not only in the form of crazy conspiracy theories — that link 5G to the spread of the coronavirus.
There are also questions about privacy and national security. Should Britain let a company from China play a part in the project? Controversially, at one point the government decided it should, and gave the firm Huawei a contract. Bad idea? Donald Trump thought so. Was he right for once? Perhaps it really is wise to keep foreign companies away from systems that might be important for national security, in case they start sharing information.
We wouldn’t want our phone calls to be heard by overseas governments. Is that just another crazy conspiracy theory? Or an echo from the days when the Swiss company Crypto sold machines that helped the United States and Germany to spy abroad?
Perhaps the story about Crypto really does serve as a warning when communications technology is so dominated by giants like Huawei. And Google. Whom do we turn to when we need a web browser? Google Crime. I mean Chrome. And when we download a film? Amazon Crime. I mean Prime.
With 5G, we’ll be generating breathtaking amounts of data. How will the tech giants use it? Google Maps won’t just give you directions from, say, London to Birmingham; it’ll start the route from the sofa in your living room, and tell you whether it’s quicker to go left or right round the coffee table.
Google Maps might even zoom in on meals you’ve eaten and show their journey through your body. Down your oesophagus, through your stomach and… beyond. Just think: an online map of your alimentary canal that anyone can download. That’s no doubt why it’s called Youtube.
I think we can safely say we’ve once more reached the land of conspiracy theories. We often do in these columns. But even though these are the very latest fifth-generation conspiracy theories, I’m sure they can be ignored just as safely as the old ones.
Still, it’s better to be safe than sorry. If, for example, you don’t want the internet to show everyone all the unhealthy food you’ve been eating, such as the packet of chocolate biscuits you ate for breakfast, you might want to learn how to manage your cookies.
Bunny Chow is essentially a curry in a hollowedout loaf of bread. It contains no rabbit, though. “Bunny” comes from the word "bania", which is derived from a Sanskrit word meaning trader. It refers to a merchant people from western India known for their resourcefulness.
In the late 19th century, many Banias migrated to Durban, South Africa. Thousands of kilometres from home, and unable to find the flour they needed to make their usual chapattis and rotis, they turned to the white loaf. They also created new recipes for their curries, using whatever local spices they could find.
Somewhere along the line, the new ingredients developed into an unusual dish that tastes quite different to anything you’ll find in India. Cheap, tasty and filling, the “suitcase sandwich” is popular among Durbanites, who will pick up a “bunny” on the way home from the city’s nightclubs — or pop out for one during their lunchbreak. It’s the perfect snack to enjoy on the sub-tropical seafront.
But this cosmopolitan dish has a troubling past. Bunny chow began as a working-class meal for the indentured Indian labourers who slaved in the sugar cane plantations around the city. Later, it was eaten by the black population, who were not allowed into cafes and restaurants — the bread served as a bowl that didn’t need to be returned.
The story of bunny chow is therefore very much the story of South Africa: a dish born out of cross-cultural fusion that became a symbol of oppression under the country’s apartheid system.
Incidentally, Durban’s most famous Bania is Mahatma Gandhi, whose peaceful struggle for independence in his native India was driven by the racism he experienced during the 20-odd years he lived in Durban.
The trick to eating bunny chow is to use pieces of the bread that has been cut out of the loaf to scoop out mouthfuls of the curry, until you’re left with the best part of all: the bottom of the loaf dripping with the spicy sauce. Chow down!
INGREDIENTS
• 1 kg boneless leg of lamb — diced
• 2 tbsp vegetable oil
• 2.5 cm cinnamon stick
• 6 green cardamom pods
• ½ tsp cumin seeds
• ½ tsp fennel seeds
• 4 cloves
• ½ tsp turmeric
• 1 bay leaf
• 10–12 curry leaves
• 1 tbsp finely chopped fresh ginger
• 1 tbsp finely chopped garlic
• 2 tbsp curry powder
• 2 tsp garam masala
• 2 tomatoes, chopped
• 1 onion, finely chopped
• 3 large potatoes, cut into cubes
• a handful of coriander leaves, chopped
• 2 tbsp lime juice
• salt
• 2 loaves of crusty white bread (unsliced),
each cut in half down the middle and hollowed out.