Sunday Times

OF PRESSING INTERNATIO­NAL CONCERN

Ndumiso Ngcobo on male nipples and other things that bother him

- NDUMISO NGCOBO

EVERYONE is an idiot about something. Well, not an idiot idiot, but just totally clueless about a particular subject. I don’t think anyone would characteri­se Muhammad Ali as having been anything but a genius, but the man probably couldn’t spell the word “probably”. That’s because words were his kryptonite, seeing as he was dyslexic.

Take Warren Buffett and Mark Zuckerberg: as smart as they are, I bet their ideas about the best scrum formation would sound idiotic to Allister Coetzee.

Now that I’m done stating the blindingly obvious, let me get to my point. Over the years I have scoured dozens of libraries and even the World Wide Web searching for answers to certain questions that keep

I have obsessed over one question for years

on bugging me. These are the things I’m an idiot about.

Anyone who has read my first collection of hallucinat­ory essays, Some of my Best Friends are White, knows that I have obsessed over one question for years: why do men have nipples?

And no, the satisfacto­ry answer is not that whole “gender differenti­ation occurs only after a few weeks of embryonic developmen­t” blah blah blah. That answers only the “how”. I’m not one to cast aspersions on the omnipotenc­e and omnipresen­ce of the Almighty, or that of Natural Selection (depending on which altar you worship at). But what I’m asking is why, after the embryonic stages that separate humans between female, transgende­r, male and everything else in between, males retain nipples. Anyone?

My next question is why people feel the urge to select the “Print out statement” option at the ATM, stare at the slip for two minutes, crumple it and toss it into the bin. Why not choose the “View statement” option and save trees in the process?

It totally makes sense when the ATM slip is printed and shoved into a purse. Maybe the card belongs to the person’s 87-year-old granny and they want proof that no more than R300 was withdrawn. But why are the rest of us still printing out ATM slips in this era, when one’s bank balance is seven keystrokes away on one’s phone?

Another thing I have never been able to understand is the popularity of automated windscreen wipers. I suspect this feature adds R5 000 to the price of cars. Is there a recorded case of someone causing a pile-up at the Gillooly’s interchang­e who got out of the car and said: “I couldn’t see because I forgot to wipe the windscreen”? Why are we paying for this? Look, I’m not against innovation. I think the cupholder is a brilliant invention; it’s very difficult to get the smell of whiskey out of a car’s upholstery.

And then there are those everyday things people say. Why do we say “in 15 minutes’ time”? Is this because it could be 15 minutes’ weight or 15 minutes’ density?

There’s something else people keep on saying that makes no sense. It has been heightened by the recent decision by that visionary, Hlaudi Motsoeneng, to play 90% “local” music on SABC stations. And the divide is clear: local vs internatio­nal. That makes no sense. Hugh Masekela’s music is consumed in at least 30 countries. This is true for Miriam Makeba too. The Parlotones are played in many countries. So is Johnny Clegg. And Yvonne Chaka Chaka. And Mafikizolo.

Surely the words we’re looking for are “South African” and “Not South African”. Jingoistic concerns aside, that’s what we’re trying to say, surely? Heck, even the rapper AKA and his decorated teeth are “internatio­nal”, surely. No? Hasn’t he famously taken pictures of himself just before disappeari­ng down a train tunnel in Brooklyn or something?

In football, Chiefs goalie Itumeleng Khune is referred to as a “Bafana internatio­nal” despite plying his club football exclusivel­y for one South African club — and yet Shakes Mashaba is not called an internatio­nal coach despite guiding the national team across many nations. Can anyone explain that? I’m getting more than just a faint whiff of male bovine excrement from where I’m standing.

I’d pay a lot of money to find out why thin people give way when you point out that they’re blocking the aisle at Woolies but the “wide” people always seem so surprised when you point out the same, exact thing to them.

I’d also like to know why everything that falls out of my hand in the car just happens to fall straight into that narrow slit between the driver’s seat and the gear lever. And then you’re that guy whose rump is sticking out of the car, franticall­y searching for the garage card at the Bruma Caltex.

I’d also love to know why passengers stand in queues, on their feet, for 43 minutes before boarding a flight. Yeah sure, about 10% are vying for the limited cabin storage space. What about the other 90%? Why not just take a seat and board the plane when there’s no one left at the gate? Your seat is reserved, you know.

This behaviour is almost as inexplicab­le to me as the fact that, as humans, we chew gum. Billions of rands’ worth of gum every year. We chew gum until we inevitably bite into the inside of our cheeks. And then we’re surprised.

The behaviour of my species makes no sense to me. I invite you to answer the questions I have asked.

While you’re at it, answer this question. You know those ice cubes that they dump on urinals in the

The behaviour of my species makes no sense to me

“Gentlemen’s” at the mall? Is there some kind of evolutiona­ry instinct that prompts men to consider this a personal challenge to see how many of the cubes we can melt?

I personally like to pretend that the ice cubes are Himalayan peaks and I’m a giant with a holy stream that causes glacial movement. LS E-mail lifestyle@sundaytime­s.co.za On Twitter @NdumisoNgc­obo

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