Person who stirs the pot or packs tins of food wields a lot of power over those who want to eat
Many moons ago in high school, a teacher told us a horrendous story. Ms Phephi had previously worked at a factory for tinned foodstuffs.
She recounted how sweaty it would get as they battled to fill up the cans with baked beans.
Some colleagues regularly wiped off the sweat with their backhands and flicked the salty stuff onto the food. Other workers also spat onto the food to spite the rude supervisor although the food was meant for the market.
Those who are easily disgusted swore off baked beans from that day. As for me, I subscribe to the dictum that: Ha re tsebe se nontshitseng fariki (loosely translated, nobody knows what made the pig fat).
I have therefore continued to eat tinned food without being distracted by what the teacher told me.
I compensate for the likelihood of eating nasty stuff by being nice to anyone who dishes up for me.
This applies to waitresses and the ladies who dish up for the mourners at funerals.
I always ensure that I greet and smile when I'm queuing at a funeral to ensure that I score a big and sumptuous piece of meat. Those women wield a lot of power and I've heard people complain when their plate is smacked with a bone attached to fat or cartilage.
When you complain, as some people are wont to do, you'll be accused of holding up the line and besides, who complains about food at a funeral? When you are nice, she would stir the pot and look for a proper piece for you.