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Byline: Rebecca Johnson
I first heard about hoodia when
whippet-thin 60 Minutes correspondent Lesley Stahl traveled to South Africa to report on the plant's reputation as a natural appetite suppressant. Stahl gamely ate the plant, declared it "cucumber-y" in texture, and later said she had no appetite and no nasty side effects for the rest of the day.
"I've always wanted to see Africa," I said aloud.
"The gym is closer," my husband answered.
A little more than a year later, hoodia is here. An Internet search turned up a ream of offerings-Hoodoba, Hoodi-Slim, Desert Burn. As I scrolled through the pages, my spirits sank. What had seemed so reasonable on 60 Minutes was now looking like the botanical version of a Chia Pet. What had happened to the promise of hoodia?
Some history. The first published account of the plant, also known as ghaap, otjinove, and khowab, was made by a Scottish botanist who traveled with Captain Cook to South Africa in 1772. Supposedly, the Kalahari bushmen would eat the plant on long hunting trips to stave off hunger. For two centuries, nobody paid much attention to the prickly plant. But as obesity became a worldwide problem (except, ironically, in Africa), South African researchers began secretly testing the plant's mythic qualities.