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Not a middle finger
[ 4 minute read ]
Hand communication
Years ago, I joined the Readers Digest Book Club. One could get heavily discounted books but if I remember correctly one had to order more and more books on a regular basis, or something like that. Sooner or later, I stopped ordering. I think I was a member twice though. I love books.
One of the first books I bought was 'Bodywatching - A field guide to the human species' by Desmond Morris. I was delighted to find a copy in the local telephone box library. The Encyclopaedia of Superstitions book sort of fell open on fingers and fingernails and I remembered the Bodywatching book, which I have on very long-term loan in my own library.
It seems that there are many obscene hand and finger gestures. I knew from years ago that the 'o' that we make with the forefinger and thumb on the same hand means 'arsehole' as an insult int he Arab world. I did not know that tapping one forefinger on the bunched tips of the digits of the other hand means 'You have five fathers' and is an insult that says among Arabs, 'Your mother has slept with many men'. (Bodywatching, 1985).
When the Japanese invaded China just before WWII the Japanese set up puppet banks and used Chinese engravers. One engraver decided to, instead of having the depiction of an elderly sage hold his hands in a reverent way, he showed his forefinger on one hand placed through an 'o' made by the thumb and forefinger of the other hand. Of course, this is a universal sign for copulation. The 'insult' went unnoticed at first but eventually the engraver was tracked down and publicly decapitated. (Bodywatching).
When I worked in orange groves in Greece, near Argos, sometimes the farmer would bring food and Retsina. Actually, most of the oranges were picked for pulp and juice and it was only the farmers who were picking quality oranges (keep the stalk and two leaves on it by cutting with secateurs) that provided food for the workers. On those farms central and northern European migrant workers worked alongside the regular Greek farm labourer or farmers son. On one occasion, and when I didn't really understand the local customs, we, us migrant workers and a couple of Greek labourers sat down to eat at lunchtime. I think it was some lamb and pearl barley. Retsina was served in little glasses. The Greek labourer next to me reached for something and his little finger dipped into my Retsina. Thinking he was wishing me good luck or something, I stuck my little finger in the Retsina in the glass he was holding and shook it a little. He was shocked but didn't say a word. I was never called to work there again though. Retsina is an alcoholic drink made with pine resin. Greek wine used to be sealed in amphorae with pine resin to prevent it spoiling; oxygenating really, and the resin infused the wine with its flavour. Greeks then began to deliberately make pine resin flavoured white wine.
My wife, of unknown origin, but definitely exotic with her black hair, stirs the sugar into the lemonade for our children with her ring finger when she makes it. She believes that nothing poisonous can touch it because it is directly connected to her heart. She always eyes me sideways as if to tell me that she never lets that finger touch me. The Romans called the ring finger digitus medicus - the medical digit. She also likes to take her wedding ring off her ring finger and repeatedly put it on and off her 'poison finger', her right hand fore-finger, in a suggestive manner. She looks at me alluringly when she does this. I know she is just playing; at least I hope she is. We think she is Armenian but she was orphaned and adopted by Romanians at a very young age.
A few times, a woman (not the same one) about to pass me on the stairs would turn around and go back. When I was younger, I used to think, 'I really must have more showers'. Apparently, some people think it is bad luck to pass people on the stairs. They could, of course, cross their fingers and that would avert the bad luck. I wonder if a 'Superstition' convention is ever held above the ground floor of a building. I suddenly realised that I would really like to go to a 'Superstition' convention, if they exist. People would have leaves pinned to them and be holding wet cats and keep touching different parts of their bodies as though they were dancing. I suspect there is a superstition about dancing though. I can't find one in my book on superstition.
Desmond Morris, 1985, 'Bodywatching', London, Jonathon Cape Ltd