No koso

Warning: this post talks about the consequences of eating raw cattle meat and may make some people feel squirmish.

We joke around about whether to order our kitfo, an Ethiopian minced beef dish, prepared raw, lightly cooked (laub laub) or, cooked well, since it has been known to contain koso, i.e. tapeworms. To most people, these parasites are not a laughing matter, especially if you consider they can grow to 6 meters long. As we talk about it, I clench my hands together to stop myself from covering my mouth to mock nausea, but this is a simple reality, so I listen and learn. Even ten years ago, koso were quite common in Ethiopia apparently; however, today, meat is more often inspected than not, and people order kitfo prepared laub laub when in question. This has managed to reduce the cases enough so that in recent years the mention of koso seems like a throwback to an undeveloped time in Ethiopia's history that people now seem slightly embarrassed by. There is medicine--quite strong drugs, actually--available in this country to help people expel the parasite, which people talk about as a last resort as one would talk about a morning-after pill.
One of my Japanese colleagues tells our Ethiopian counterparts that there is actually a diet technique in Japan where people drink a potion containing tapeworms as a measure to keep thin. The men all nod their heads and say, yes, koso are believed to eat the bad bacteria in the body and are not considered dangerous, per se. They tell us about a member of the Japanese Embassy years ago who bragged about his koso, which he had named and often brought up in conversation. After the diplomat was reassigned to another country, he sent a postcard which mourned the death of his little friend. A disturbing story.
Acknowledging the fact that people were playing up the fear factor for my benefit, I managed to stop myself from running straight to the airport. The following day, S and I take all the instructors out to a kitfo restaurant, one that is known for its fresh--and regularly inspected--ox meat. Nevertheless, I order mine cooked well and add "no koso please" under my breath. This erupts laughter around the table and becomes a phrase people repeat for the rest of the afternoon. Five minutes later, our dishes arrive and we toast with glasses of Coca-cola diluted with Ambo mineral water. Four members of our group ordered injera with large chunks of raw ox meat, served on the ubiquitous aluminum platters and along with long, sharp knives which they use to cut through the flesh, wrap in injera and then dip in a red-brown berbere sauce. It is an almost eerie sight, but the smiles on their faces makes the meal look delicious. Even so, I wave off their offer to try a bite of the pink meat with the "no koso please" line and they let me off the hook. I join the others eating tibs, sliced lamb pan fried in garlic and butter, and hand-minced meat cooked thoroughly in butter and thyme.
If I keep eating like that and don't gain any weight while I'm here, I suppose I'll have to think of a good name for it. ;-9