this is why...

i ate a caterpillar.

"I will give you $10 to eat this," my uncle said, smirking.

I looked at the caterpillar, charred but still obviously a bug. Lots of legs. There is no way, I thought. Absolutely no way.

It was a cool night in Kitwe, a city in northern Zambia, where we had been staying for a few days in the middle of our trip, and I was sitting at the end of a long table, staring at the expectant faces of my traveling companions. My uncle, the leader of the group, sat beside me grinning and pushing the plate closer to me.

I hestitated, equivocated, looked from him to the bug to the floor. Everyone was watching.

"Ok...fine...how 'bout this," he said. "If you eat it, I will give $10 to the family of your choice tomorrow at the village."

I faltered, still looking at the ground. $10 would go a long ways here. For a family with kids that was nearly a week of food.

"How 'bout this," I heard. My friend Jim, a businessman and World Vision donor. "I'll double what everyone else agrees to contribute." Outwardly, emotionless. Inwardly writhing.

$40.

I picked up the seared black bug, shuddering as my fingers defined each body segment and stubby leg. I breathed in deeply through my nose. Maybe if I ate it without having to inhale, I wouldn't taste it.

I closed my eyes (probably squealed a little) and ate it.


We do strange things when we believe in a cause. Strange things like eat bugs and run marathons.