25 Start Your Day with a Glass of Urine

The Taste of My First Glass of Urine

I scrutinized the cup from every possible angle. Holding it up against the bathroom light, I noticed hundreds of little bubbles floating up from the bottom of the jar. When they reached the top, they merged with bigger bubbles, the remnats of the strong discharge, and burst. A beer drinker would probably find the color lip-smacking and be tempted to drink it. But the minute he or she got a whiff of it, the person would probably give up beer for life. Thinking about this and that, I gazed at the jar and placed it on the glass cupboard in front of the mirrow.

I couldn't sleep a wink that night. No matter how hard I tried, the thought of tomorrow's battle with urine kept creeping into my head. I would get up, hounded by a multitude of questions, pondering whether I should do it or not, and whether it would really cure illnesses.

Before I knew it, the early rays of the morning sun began to shine through the basement window, and I could hear the cries of the birds that always woke me up.

All right, time to get up. I went to the bathroom naked, straight from my sleeping bag. I took the glass I had used the night before in my left hand, grasped my penis between my index and middle fingers and slowly began to urinate.

There were not too many bubbles thanks to the previuous night's trial run. Just when it was about eight-tenths full came that jolt that signals the end of urination.

"Not much there. Is that all? I usually pass more..." I told myself while switching the jar from my left to right hand. Wait a minute. Last night, it was a lighter color. This morning's urine is a shade darker. That's strange. I was aware that my urine got darker after I had taken part in sports or when I was tired. But I hadn't done anything particularly rigorous the previous night. I put the jar on the cupboard and scrutinized it again at length.

24 Start Your Day with a Glass of Urine

I may have come on strong with my mother, but the thought of starting my battle with urine the next day left me heavy hearted. I hung up and went straight to the bathroom. I took the empty peanut butter jar I use to gargle with off the shelf with my left hand and unzipped my fly with my right. Telling myself like it or not, I would be indebted to my penis every morning from here on, I let loose a stream and stopped just when the jar was full.

The ability to stop urinating at will is very convenient but can only be done by men. It's difficult for women to stop once they've started bcause their urethra is so short. Women who drink urine need a large container, since there's no knowing how much they'll pass. Women's bodies are built differently from men's, so a peanut butter jar certainly would not suffice, I thought.

Then I told myself not to meander off onto other subjects. What's more important is concentrating on how you're going to drink your urine tomorrow morning.

23 Start Your Day with a Glass of Urine

"You'll Die if You Drink Urine," My Mother Warns

It was past 10:30 p.m. by the time I got back to my apartment. There was a letter from a friend in Japan. There's nothing more heartwarming in a foreign country than to receive a letter from home. Just as I was about to read it, the phone rang. It was my mother, who was living in a senior citizens' home on the out skirts of Toronto. I was always amazed by my mother's strong independent nature. The fortitude she showed in raising three children and looking after her husband's mother by herself after losing her husband in the Second World War was truly the mark of a women's liberation fighter, I thought. At the time, she was 74 and living by herself.

"Why are you calling at this hour, is something wrong?" I answered in my usual gruff way.

"I still have a fever. It was 37 degree the last time I took it. I wish you'd come give me an acupuncture treatment if you have time. I'm so weak, I may die."

"Don't be so dramatic and scare the living daylights out of me. I'll be there tomorrow afternoon. Your fever should go down once I've treated you. And by the way, I've decided to drink my own urine starting tomorrow. If it helps me get better, I'll recommend it for you, too."

"What are you talking about? Don't you know you'll die if you drink urine? I beg you, whatever you do, don't go that far. You'll die of uremia! You can't die before me. Don't you know that there are all sorts of bacteria in urine?"

"But Mom, you're only telling me what you've heard. You don't know for certain yourself whether urine contains bacteria, and there's no evidence that you'll die from bacteria entering the body. You're simply falling back on hearsay. I'm going to try it anyway. I learned that Indian Prime Minister Morarji Desai has been doing this for years and hasn't been sick at all. If it works for him, it should work for me. After all, there's no reason why food that goes through the body should suddenly become dirty."

"Ai yai yai yai! My son is going to start drinking urine? How am I going to explain this to your father when I go to heaven? It's all my fault. It's your decision whether you do it or not. But don't ever bring up the subject of urine in front of me again."

"Mom, don't get so heated up. I'll go work on you tomorrow, so get a good night's rest tonight and have pleasant dreams about urine."

"You blockhead!" she said, slamming the receiver down.

22 Start Your Day with a Glass of Urine

With the Japanese community in Toronto being as small as it is, in no time, word had got around that I was practicing acupuncture. I tried to make house calls as much as possible when so requested, so I usually treated one or two people a day. Sometimes a patient would bring along some sick friends and line them up in front of me. I made it a policy to do as much as I could for them.

But the talk of urine therapy had completely disoriented me. The thought of it remained stuck in my head the entire time I was working on the three Hayashi family members. I had lost my concentration to the point where grandmother Hayashi asked if something was wrong. I couldn't stell her I was planning to start drinking my urine the next day, so I made the excuse that I hadn't gotton much sleep the night before.

It was about 8:00 p.m. by the time I finished my house call at the Hayashis. I asked all my patients to allow me to have a meal with their whole families whenver I made house calls. It gave me an opportunity to relate my own stories and listen to others. I always mentioned the Indian reservation and the food on the table. Nalturally, my stories about the Indians revolved around my experiences while living on the Grassy Narrows Reservation. I also noted how food is the most important element in our existence and discussed its relation to our health. In the connection, I would talk about agrichemicals, Minamata disease and all I knew about our bodies and health.

21 Start Your Day with a Glass of Urine

Second Thoughts about Our Pledge

After leaving Hamid's home, I crossed Finch Street and headed through the northern part of town to Hihway 401 to my next patient's house. My head was swimming with thoughts that perhaps my vow to drink urine the next day was an unthinkable crime. But after having made that firm vow, breaking the pledge with Hamid would be cowardly.

What if I died two or three days after drinking it? I would be the laughing stock of the world if an obituary appeared in Japan reading, "Hiroyuki Miyamatsu, aged 41. Died in Toronto, Canada from drinking urine." Imagining what my belovid family, and particularly my mother would think, I decided this was not something to confide in other people. Some sarcastic Caucasians would probably ask if that was why Orintals are yellow. I was certain I would be branded a fool.

Come to think of it, the only thing I knew about urine therapy was senodhand knowledge about Prime Minister Desai gained from Hamid. It was not as if I had acquaintances who drank urine or I had learned about urine from a doctor.

Muttering, "Hamid, you threw me a screw ball. I never thought I would be so obsessed with urine at the age of 41. You troublemaker, Hamid..." before I knew it, I found myself driving in the opposite direction from the home of my next patients, the Hayashis, a second-generation Japanese-Canadian family

20 Start Your Day with a Glass of Urine

I left Hamid's house smelling of curry. Customarily, Hamid's entire family would see me to the door and promise to meet again the next Sunday. His younger son would extend his hand in expectation of afare well shake. The energy I felt from his little hand was an expression of gratitude for coming to their home to treat his parents.

Hamid's youngers on would always come into the bedroom when I was treating his parents and move around the bed, watching me with deep interest. Even a four year old could tell his father was different from other people from the way he always had his hand on his left knee and walked around painfully half bent over. He would peer into his father's face while I was treating him, his eyes glistening all the more from the light pouring in through the window.

19 Start Your Day with a Glass of Urine

Two topics always came up at the dinner table--Hamid's sons and his bithplace in Tanazania. Hamid's eldest son, Shularz, was a fifth grader. His other son was four years old. Most of the dinner table topppics focused on Shularz. He had big eyes he would blink whenever he spoke. He would always get his father's permission before speaking up and telling us what had happened at school. His stories were always the same: he had been bullied by a group of white students and wanted to know how he could get his revenge. It was an important problem for him. He felt he was targeted because he was a dark-skinned ethnic Indian.

Just around that time, Toronto had witnesse many racially motivated murders and muggings of Pakistanis, who were derogatorily referred to as "Pakis." Many were subjected to discrimination despite the fact they were Canadian citizens, just because, like Shularz, they were dark skinned and looked Pakistani.

Hamid would tell Shularz to wait until summer vacation when he would send him to karate school and with burning tears of anger in his eyes, would reasssure Shularz that he was not to blame for the bullying.

Hamid's family had been in business in Tanzania from as far back as five generation. But the non-indigenous ethnic groups which held economic sway over the country were banished following Tanzania's independence. While it is unclear how many Indians were living there at the time of independence, they were said to have settled on a strip of the eastern coast at least 500 years ago. But as the independence movement proceeded to sweep across Africa, such group gradually found it difficult to remain and many emigrated to Britain and Canada..

18 Start Your Day with a Glass of Urine

Hamid's wife Zeton, lying on the other aside of the double bed stuck with acupuncture needles all over, turned toward us and covered her face.

"Oh no, not me. I don't need to be cured if it means drinking pee. You two must have gone crazy. 'll stick with acupuncture, even if it hurts," she cried.

As if in reply to Zeton, Hamid said, "Women are always so emotional. I'll do anything to cure myself. I'd even eat my c---, if I had to. Look at you. Every time you have your period, you get bitchy toward me and the kids and sometimes faint in the bus. There's probably something wrong with you, too, If you can be cured by drinking urine, then you're all the better for it. I'm going to try it. You can too after Hiro and I try it out on ourselves. You promise to try it if it cures my hip pain, okay?

Zeton looked hesitant, but seemed reassured by the stipulation about Hamid curing himself first.

"I'll try it once both of you are cured. And if it really works, I'll have the kids do it, too," she said.

But I reminded her that it would take time for the kids to try it. Perhaps she should wait until its efficacy became clear.

"After all, kids will copy whatever their parents do," I reminded her.

"I can't wait for tomorrow morning. I'm so excited I may not be able to sleep tonight!" I said.

I made a practice of having dinner with Hamid's family every time I went to his house to treat couple. The Indian food, panstakingly prepared by Hamid, consisted for variious types of curry-based dishes. On my first couple of visits, I found the food extremely exotic and ate every last bit. But to be truthful, it was so hot it numbed my tongue and I couldn't taste anything else. All the dishes I had eaten at Hamid's were his original recipes. I found their spiciness somewhat overwhelming.

17 Start Your Day with a Glass of Urine

Learning about Prime Minister Morarji Desai's Urine Therapy

"You may not now it, but Indian Prime Minister Morarji Desai is famous for the way he keeps fit and healthy--by drinking the first urine he passes each morning. Although I have only seen pictures of Desai, I must say he looks much younger than 90. And I understand a lot of Indian yogis also drink their urine," Hamid said.

Hamid and I had gradually begun to open up after a few acupuncture treatments. I tried to get him to relax while we spoke, then would get into the acupuncture treatment and ease his pain. Since his problem was polio, though, his pain might be momentarily relieved by acupuncture, but not completely cured by it. Or at least I couldn't cure it (egotistic expression).

Hamid probably continued the treatments because he didn't seem to have many close friends whom he could confide in. That day, he happened to touch on this subject while talking about himself and his body.

"Drink urine?", I was dubious, but for some reason felt that I should go along with him, particularly as he had moved beyond resignation about his condition to a point of trying to cure himself.

"Okay, Hamid. I'll try it if you do. If it's good for Prime Minister Desai, it should be good for us too. Let's do it! After all, there are limits to what acupuncture can do. And I have some pains of my own. There's a Japanese proverb about persevering to the end, so if we're going to do it, let's keep it up for at least three years."

We promised to keep that pledge. He vowed to start the very next morning and we shook resolutely on it.

16 Start Your Day with a Glass of Urine

Chapter Two


Learning about Urine Therapy from Hamid


I first heard about urine therapy around two months after moving to Toronto from Hamid Cassam, a refugee of Indian descent from Tanzania who had moved to Canada 15 years earlier. Hamid worked at the Cassam garage in Toronto owned by his brother.

That morning I took my car to the nearest repair shop, Cassam's to have some work done. Hamid appeared from the back room in a pair of greasy overalls with his sleeves rolled up and clutching his left knee, which he dragged painfully.

Taken aback by his pained expression, I completely forgot about my car and told him I practiced acupuncture and could help his pain.

He told me his left leg had been paralyzed since childhood following a bout of polio and his hip hurt him constantly, then expressed surprise at a having opened himself up to a complete stranger. He asked me to come to his house that Sunday for an acupuncture treatment, which he had heard about and had planned to try. Western doctors had told him there was nothing they could do for his pain, he said.

Naturally I agreed to treat him.

Thereafter, I went every Sunday afternoon to Hamid's house to treat him and his wife, Zeton. Hamid first mentioned urine therapy during my fifth trip or so. I remember our conversation as clear as day.