Living with the Muck Tribe

Learn the shocking truth about 'The People of the Corn Husk'

Parody of 'Living with the Mek Tribe' on the Travel Channel

So, this is that infamous Muck tribe that I've heard so much about.









And you must be the chief, eh?




Chief Wamba says he greets you in peace on behalf of his people.




Tell him the feeling is mutual.




He says his people have been rearranging the jungle all week, getting ready for the advent of your person.




That's nice -- or at any rate that SOUNDS nice. (Mind you, I don't have the slightest idea what the no-doubt worthy potentate is talking about, but...)





The chief says, before you can cross this river here into Muck country, you must wear this.




Oh, dear. And where exactly does one wear this? What is it, anyway? It looks like a corn husk.




The chief says that you must wear this corn husk on your...




Oi! That's not gonna happen.




The chief says you will offend his people greatly if you fail to wear it as requested.




Tell the chief that I've seen the Travel Channel series about the nearby Mek tribe, and I know very well that Olly and Mark didn't have to wear embarrassing things like this until they had become close friends with their particular chief.








Now, I'm sure the chief is a fine fellow here, but let's get acquainted before he hauls out the heavy cultural artillery.




I'm not sure that the Muck language has a meaningful equivalent for the phrase "heavy cultural artillery."




Look, just tell him that we'll have to check back with our producers in London to get clearance on the corn husk business. This is a g-rated show, after all. In the meantime, could he please just show us to the village?




The chief says "Very well, but," so to speak, followed by "mumble, mumble, mumble"...




Yes, Lena, I think I can understand the Chief's mumbling part myself, without your translation.



Whoa, is this rope bridge supposed to be wobbling like this?




The chief says, um... It's hard to translate exactly, but he's basically saying the Muck equivalent of, uh: "Oh, shut yer yap and come along, bozo!"




Bozo, eh?




Well, "cheeky monkey": That sort of thing.




All right, all right, jeez! Oh, fine, and now all these half-pint Muck children are laughing at me, too. Yes, of course: You locals cross this bridge every day, but I'm from parts unknown, remember! Cut me some slack! (No, not literally! Attention, Muck children: Sheathe all swords at once!)



Where is my sidekick when I need him? Oh, Wally, there you are. Tut-tut: Don't get on the bridge until I've finished crossing, Wally. I'm already spinning like a top out here. Whoooaa! My gracious: It must be a 40 foot drop to that shallow whitewater river below!




The chief says that it's actually a 50 foot drop.




Oh, fine: Be sure to thank the chief for that thoughtful clarification. Now then, I'm finally across. Wally? What ho? Yo, Wally -- Here, boy! Come here, boy! That's a good Wally! Come on!




Oh, shut up, Jolly. Oh, great: I've never crossed a rope bridge before in my life....




Don't worry, Wally -- I think I found the trick to surviving this rope bridge.




Oh, yeah? Good. What is it?




It's basically this: I advise you to be very very lucky indeed as you're crossing it -- otherwise you're almost certain to dash your brains out on the foam-covered rocks below. So remember: just be lucky -- be very, very lucky.




Oh, thank you very much, Jolly. I'll try to keep that thought in mind -- while I still have a mind to keep it in, that is.




Double time, boy: The chief is leaving us in the dust -- or rather in the fan palms and bamboo shoots.

What am I supposed to do with this corn husk?





What? Oh, never mind that for now. Apparently we're supposed to wear it in some very anatomically improbable place, indeed -- but not to worry: I've won a reprieve from the chief on that particular quaint custom while we (quote/unquote) "check with London" for permission to obey.




Check with London?




Yes. Of course, the sad thing is, I've got the feeling that our radio is going to be on the fritz for the entire length of our stay here in Muck country (Tee-hee!) so we may never get permission from London to wear this no-doubt de rigueur piece of masculine attire.







Now, listen, just sit quietly beside me on this log as the villagers gather around this little campfire here. Eyes straight ahead, mind. The women are surely gaping at us in naive astonishment, not out of any ill-advised love interest in two pale creatures from across the seas.




Speak for yourself, Jolly -- I'm rather tan, myself.




Quiet. The chief will be out in a minute to give the official Muck welcoming speech.




I do wish all these little children would stop giggling at us. It makes one very self-conscious.




Now, relax: They're just naturally curious. They probably haven't seen a Westerner in days.




In days?




That's right: the private planes of a half-dozen independent film producers are backed up as far as Boston right now, due to the current spate of smoky forest fires in the vicinity of Cilik Riwut airport.



Ooh, look, Guys! (Lena, Wally!) Here come da judge -- er, I mean here come the chief. (Oh, I am terrible. Listen, Lena, if they say anything about roasting us on a spit, you will tell us, won't you?)




Shush, Jolly!








Chief Wamba is telling his people here that you have come from London to observe the quaint ways of their tribe.




Quaint ways of their tribe? Are you sure he said it like that?




Shush!




I'm sorry, but I find it hard to believe that the Chief would use the word "quaint" to refer to his very own customs.



Oh, dear: The chief is glowering at us now. What is he saying, Lena?




Uh, the chief say... If something is so funny, uh, perhaps you (as it were) would like to share it with the rest of the class?




Tell the chief, "Point taken." I am silent.








The chief says he wants us all to join him for beetle soup after the campfire meeting.





Oh, how nice.




Beetle soup? Oh, yes: Sounds swell: Beetle soup. But shouldn't we check back with London before we partake of it, Jolly?




Quiet. The chief is still sore with us about our failure to don the traditional corn husks. We'd better just polish off this "interesting" soup as complacently as possible. Or rather YOU'D better polish it off, Wally. I just remembered: I'm beetle intolerant.




You're beetle intolerant, are you?




That's right: I can eat lactose 24/7, I can positively binge on the stuff, but if I so much as look at a beetle, I faint.




Quiet, boys: The chief has a special announcement to make.




Aha! I hope this is good: We need some good dramatic hook to this documentary if we're going to sell this baby to the Travel Channel.




He says that one of the young female tribe members has been casting spells on the village elders and that... Oh, dear.




What is it, Lena? What?




He says that they will have a meeting tomorrow night at which she will be...




Yes? Yes?




tried as a witch.




Talk about quaint customs!




And then summarily stoned to death once she's found guilty.




Don't you mean, IF she's found guilty, Lena?




You'll have to ask the chief about that: I'm just telling you what he said.




Oh, this is terrible -- at least from my no-doubt biased Western viewpoint on such matters.




Awful!




Mind you, it would make excellent television!




Jolly!




But like I say: Dreadful. Tsk-tsk. I have half a mind to intervene right now and stop this farce.




What about the other half of your mind, Jolly?




The other half of my mind says, "Who am I to say? After all, maybe the girl in question IS a witch? Then we'd have (as it were) imperial egg on our face were we to intervene on her behalf."




Leave it to Jolly to examine every possible angle.




Well, if the witch in question is the babe I'm currently dreaming about, she was rather curvaceous at that. As in, ooh-la-freakin' la!




Jolly, I'm shocked! That is most unprofessional of you! You'll be kicked out of the Anthropology Club when we get back to the community college!




Relax. We'll just edit this bit out before we get home.





The idea!




The chief says that everyone should now get in line for beetle soup -- starting with the two pale strangers who have so far (unfortunately) refused to wear their corn husks, but who, he hopes, will soon oblige him in that regard.




The chief just said all that?




Do you want me to do my job or not?




Okay, Relax.



SIGH!



Great: You know, we came here merely to observe, and now we have this moral dilemma shoved up in our face like this, not to mention that the chief seems determined to make us don these embarrassing corn husks, will we or nill we. After you, by the way, Wally, I had a Snicker's Bar last night.




I think our interpreter should get the first bowl of soup: She's had a rough day, eh, Lena? Dig in, old girl.




You guys are too kind: WAY too kind!

The chief says you are here early. The witch trial does not begin until the moon is in the seventh house.




Right: About this witch trial, chief.




Nor has Jupiter yet aligned with Mars.




Indeed. It's just that I --





The chief says he's sorry, but he must go prepare for the trial now. He says that all the elders will be wearing brand-new corn husks for the event -' in light of which fact, he trusts that you and Wally will favor them with the appropriate attire also.




Well, actually --




Fine. That's settled then.




What?




That's what the chief just said: 'Fine, that's settled then.'




What, the chief actually said the words "Fine, that's settled then," in the Muck language?




Do you want me to interpret for you or not?




Yo, Chief, I have a question for you! There he goes again inside his proverbial thatched hut.



Say, I wonder what the mortgage is on that place... (Sorry: there's been a recent spike in property taxes back home and I've got something of an idee fixe on the subject of real estate prices.)



Fortunately, I've made friends with a young man here who speaks a little English. Banji, please: I have a question for you.




That's Banjo, Sire.




No! Really?




If Banjo is lying, Banjo is dying.




Where did you pick up that little trope?




Banjo no comprendo "little trope.'




Oh, never mind: I fancy you've been talking to Wally and he's been filling your head with his somewhat unrepresentative smorgasbord of slang words.




Unrepresentative snore gas board ???




You know, Wally, right, my friend: the big westerner: a sort of 25-year-old Leave It to Beaver.




No comprendo this "Leave it to the Beaver" as you call it.




Never mind, Banjo. Listen -- I still can't believe your name is really Banjo, by the way.




If Banjo is lying --




Yes, as you've said. Anyway, listen: Do the chief and his elders really believe that this woman is a witch?




It is hard to say, klin-key.




Klin-key? What does 'klin-key' mean, Lena?




'Klin-key' basically means 'the fat one that comes from across the water and, as it were, says things that we don't always understand, or that, so to speak, give us pause.'




Oh, now you're just making that up!




No, sir: Big things come in small packages when it comes to the Muck language.




Indeed?




Yes. A true Mucker could have said the Gettysburg Address in a mere 42 syllables.




But where does he get off calling me fat? I'm 160 pounds at most, and that's not bad considering that I'm 5'6". Besides, most of that is what you call muscle. Of course, by Muck standards, I may have some room for improvement, but...




'Fat' can mean different things in the Muck language. For instance, one may be 'fat' with knowledge, that is to say, one can be replete with it.




Whatever. Look, could you just ask him in his native lingo whether this 'witch woman' is in real danger tonight or not?








He says chief must be seen to act decisively, however he (the chief) will probably not actually kill the woman until tomorrow morning.




That's very reassuring, indeed. Thank you, Banjo. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd better go get ready for this mockery of justice ' er, I mean the trial.




Banjo no comprendo this 'mockery of justice.'




No, I don't suppose you do comprendo a "mockery of justice," Banjo, do you, old boy? Well, neither do I, native one. Neither do I.

Lena, interpreting: Hear ye, hear ye!




Oh, come on: "Hear ye, hear ye"???




That's what the chief is saying, more or less.




Probably less, Lena -- probably a LOT less.





Anyway, they're now deciding who should sit where. They want Jolly on the left rock and Wally on the right. Then the various elders behind you. Incidentally, they are still a little peeved that you guys are not wearing those corn husks like the other men of the village.




I don't know about Jolly, Lena, but the corn husks weren't in MY job contract. By the way, where are all the women tonight?




The chief say that the women are not allowed at this trial.




Oh? And why not?




He says that they have a conflict of interest, since the suspect herself is a woman.




What?




Shh, Jolly! I'm trying to follow the trial!




Well, wait a minute: Surely at least the accused should be here, though.




No. Chief say the accused has the greatest conflict of interest of them all, since she herself is the very woman who is on trial here today!




But --




Quiet, dude: The trial is getting underway!



Lena, interpreting for chief: 'Welcome to the tribal elders and their wives and family and our distinguished guest klin-keys, Jolly and Wally."






Again with the "klin-keys"! I do hope that they're not implying that I'm unduly fat.




Shh!




'We are gathered here today,' as it were, 'to decide if this woman, Sharshar Kenotte Keo or whatever, is in reality a witch.'







'Who will present evidence to this effect?



Yes, Father Kenken.'








What is Father Cancan saying?




It's Father Kenken, you fool.




Whatever.




He says, 'She looked at me askance on the morning of the Rain God Festival, and that very night, I came home to find rock salt strewn about my doorway..."




And what's the chief saying in reply?




He says: "And you are allergic to rock salt, then, Father Kenken?"




Yes? And what does Father Kenken say?




Uh, he says that, no, he isn't necessarily allergic to rock salt, but that the incident didn't half scare him all the same.







Lena, interpreting for chief: "Anyone else? Yes, Wenwen."



Lena, interpreting for Wenwen: "For my part, I have been taken most strangely ill subsequent to a strange encounter with this woman's most knowing eye!'








Lena, interpreting for chief: "We have time for just one more vague and unsubstantiated complaint. Yes, Frank."




Frank?




That's apparently his tribal name, what can I say?




All right, well, what does this "Frank" person say?




He says: 'I can only repeat what the two honorable gentlemen have already said before me.'




Right. And what is the chief saying?




The chief says: "How do you mean? Did both of the incidents that they describe happen to you, too, Frank?"







Lena, interpreting for Frank: "Uh, not exactly, no."



Lena, interpreting for Chief: "Then what's your point?"



Lena, interpreting for Frank: "Well, I... I merely wanted to repeat what the gentlemen have already said... insofar as I found it all very convincing, indeed."







Lena, interpreting for chief: Silence! We will now vote: Those in favor of instantaneous death for this evil witch, signify by raising your right corn husk.




Their right corn husk?



Lena, whispering: Apparently elders get TWO corn husks while newcomers receive only one.




But what --




Maybe the second one's a spare, like an extra tire for your automobile.




Ix-nay on the double entendres, Wally. Remember our g-rating!




Anyway, the chief says the vote is taken, and the witch is in fact a witch and shall now be pummeled with stones until dead.




Uh, ahem, pardon me, Chief, but may I testify?




The chief says: "But surely you do not know the witch in question? Don't tell me she has already cast her spells upon you as an outsider!"




No, I just wanted to say...




The chief bids you speak on.




Well, the way I see it, ahem.... How can I put this? The quality of mercy is not strained, Chief Wamba. Oh, no. No, it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath.




The chief says, "What in the," as it were, "blazes are you talking about, pale one?"




I guess what I'm trying to say is: couldn't we postpone the actual stoning part until sunrise? My understanding is that that would be much more in keeping with Muck tradition, anyway, and we certainly don't want our viewers to get a misleading view of your ancient culture.







Lena, interpreting for chief: "What you say is most meet and seemly."




"Meet and seemly"? Lena, how long have you actually been an interpreter?




Oh, shut up.




Did the chief just tell me to shut up?




No, I did.




Fine. Objection noted. Now, what did the chief say?




He said that we should all gather around this same campfire at sunrise for the stoning of the witch. Oh, yes, and "bring your own stones."




Bring your own -- Lena!




Don't look at me: that's what he SAID!




Right, well, you guys stay here and make sure that they don't harm their supposed witch, right? Meanwhile, I'm going to go sit in my tent and have one more whispering soliloquy with my video camera.




What about me, Ollie?




What ABOUT you?




Don't I get one more whispering soliloquy, too?




I'm the one who paid for the camera, Wally -- or at any rate, I'm the one who will be paying through the nose for it for the next 20 years at ridiculously exorbitant credit card interest rates. If you want your own soliloquy, you'll have to acquire your own massive personal debt!

5:00 A.M.

Oh, great. How is this going to work?




I'm sorry, but we have to save the entire family: We can't just kidnap Sharshar from the island by herself. People will talk.




Fine. All aboard the SUV then. There's how many kids: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6... good grief! And who might you be?




He says he's Sharshar's brother.




Oh, fine: On the roof, then. And you?




Uh, he says he's an uncle.




No, sorry, no uncles.




He says he made a mistake: He's actually a brother, too.




Wrong. Now get off the hood so we can move out.




Goodbye, Muck tribe!




Not so loud, Wally -- We're not exactly leaving on good terms, remember?!




Oh, yeah.




Whoa, wait a minute: Here comes Banji! Hit the brakes.




That's Banjo, Sire.




Banjo, of course: What's up, dude?




The Chief has heard of your escape!




Oh, dear! And is he waxing wroth?




Exsqueeze me?




Oh, great: Wally! Did you teach this noble savage to say "exsqueeze me"?!




Oops.




Wally! That's like picking flowers inside a museum greenhouse! Wait till I tell the Anthropology Club!




I know, I know.




You're muddying the once-pristine waters of the child's quaint lingo!




Sorry.




"Exsqueeze me," indeed, Wally! But now, Banjo, is the chief upset with us?




Tee-hee!




Tee-hee, is it? Oh, fine, now he's giggling at us, too. What's wrong with you, Banjo? Why are you laughing at such a blatantly inappropriate time as this, when (in case you hadn't noticed) we're trying to escape with our lives -- our very many lives, in fact, including that of Sharshar the witch and her apparently extremely numerous family. Hast thou eaten of the forgetful lotus leaf, native one?!




I am sorry, good sir, but I just had to tell you...




Let ME explain, Banjo.




Sharshar! Why didn't you tell me that you could speak what now appears to be perfectly good (if slightly Americanized) English?




That's what's so funny, Sir. We were having you on! There's no such thing as the Muck tribe! We just wasted your whole weekend to have a good laugh at you! Ha ha!




The "chief," as you call him, is down at the Rimba Lodge on the Skrang River, telling the locals how he put one over on another ambitious team of western film producers!




Then I suppose that Lena...




That's right, Jolly -- I was in on it all along!




No wonder you made such a crap translator! Fancy a native tribal chief talking about things being "meet and seemly."








Well, I'll be: And I'll bet your name isn't Banjo after all, is it, young man?




No, oddly enough, my name IS Banjo -- But everything else was a joke!




Except for Sharshar's curvaceous thighs, I trust -- they still look real enough to me. As in bow-freakin' wow, already, girlfriend! Huh!




That's fine talk for a stodgy professional anthropologist!




I know, I know: well, sue me.




I hope you don't take this joke personally, though, Jolly?




Me? Of course not! In fact, this is an unlooked-for stroke of genius.




How so?




Well, don't you see? Now we can promote our documentary back in the states from a "We Fooled the Westerner" angle! You know: we could call it "Natives 1, Westerners 0! Tune in next week when the hapless White Men make a fool of their anthropological selves!" Throw in the usual "indigenous nudity" and you've got a hit series!




Except that we, too, are Westerners, as it happens.




Westerners, eh? Well, that could be a little harder to sell to the Travel Channel. You sure we couldn't fudge it a little and insist that the folks who tricked us were the real native McCoy?




What, you mean we should pretend that we were educated about the West, albeit we still come from Borneo?




Precisely.




It's hard to say: it really depends on the sort of contract that we hammer out. What sort of numbers are we talking about here, cash-wise, I mean, net, not gross?




But... So then that corn husk that you guys wanted us to wear in that very strange bodily location was -- that was just a joke, too, eh?




Yes, and we were so disappointed that you didn't go along with that quote-unquote "tradition" of ours. We would have been laughing till doomsday had we ever beheld such a spectacle!




Yes, they really had you going, Jolly!




Speaking of going, where has Wally gone? Oh, wait: here he comes now.



Why, Wally, what --




Ta-da! I finally broke down and decided that I, for one, was going to dress just like a true native, corn husk and all. So there! Humph!



Hey, what are you guys laughing at: I'm wearing the tribal corn husk, just like any self-respecting Mucker would --







Um... okay. Why are all the natives suddenly wearing shirts and shoes?







I think I'm, um, going to just pop back into my tent over here for a minute and, um...







BYE!!!!!!!




Did you get that on film, Jolly?!




Every single semi-indecent frame. In living color, no less! Talk about embarrassed! Did you see that face? I didn't realize there were so many shades of the color red! Thank god for high-definition TV!



Lena, why don't you hang back and talk Wally out of suicide while the rest of us ride up to the Rimba Lodge and talk about a contract deal with quote-unquote "Chief" Wamba? I can see it now: Stay Tuned for "We Fooled the Westerners," starring the quote-unquote Muck tribe of... of...




I can't speak for the rest of us, but I'm from Cincinnati!




Cincinnati? Ha ha! Oh, that's rich!







No, seriously, tell Wally to snap out of it. Tell him that that corn husk of his will put his kids through college someday! It's gonna make priceless television, I tell ya! The Travel Channel is going to snap our show up like a box turtle!



Now then: Muck tribe, attention.... Forward muck -- I mean, MARCH!

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