Halloween has always been somewhat of a mystery to me.

Perhaps that's because I grew up in Africa, where you'd have to be a little crazy to leave your pumpkins outside. Folks there never have trouble distinguishing between decorations and food. And leaving food on your porch is not a good idea. Especially during a famine. When people are starving, there is nothing more arrogant than decorating your house with food.

Actually, the conditions were never that bad in Zambia, the country I grew up in. We never felt the need to go door to door, begging for candy.

My mom would have been so embarrassed if I had asked a neighbor for food. Especially after giving the neighbor a threat. Trick or treat? A quick call to my mother and the trick would have been saving my butt from a whipping.

If we were guests at someone's house and they offered me a second helping of dessert, the correct response was "No, thank you." Mom was always watching and I didn't want it to be my last dessert.

Mom was concerned that people would think she wasn't feeding her son well. It didn't help that I was built like a bamboo.

She would have thrown a fit if I had wanted to wander the entire neighborhood, begging strangers for candy. But she might have liked the idea of me wearing a costume and mask, so no one would identify me as her son.

Of course, trick-or-treating would never work in Zambia, because few people know about Halloween. If you knocked on their doors dressed as a werewolf, they might throw something at you, but it probably won't be candy.

After coming to America, it took me several years to get used to Halloween. No one explained it to me. They were too busy trying to scare me.

Though I'm a grown man, I scare easily, especially early in the morning, when I look in the mirror.

Seeing so many people wearing masks made me wonder whether Halloween is a special day to honor bank robbers.

I often mixed up American holidays. Once, on a Sunday afternoon, a female friend who was planning to visit me asked if I had a carving knife. I thought she was going to bake a turkey or some other tasty bird for me. After I had built an immense appetite, she showed up with a pumpkin. And it wasn't even for eating. I wanted to carve that pumpkin to pieces.

In later years, I still found myself unprepared for Halloween. I hardly ever stocked up with candy. And I quickly learned that those ghouls, goblins and other creatures do not appreciate my closest substitute: cough drops.

I guess those creatures never get sick.

Halloween seems to be the best time of the year for some children. It even beats Christmas. They believe in the spirit of giving, but not as much as they believe in the spirit of scaring.

It must be fun to frighten your neighbors, pretending to be Dracula, Freddy Krueger or Steve Forbes.

It makes me wish I had grown up in this country. I would have had a great time trick-or-treating, especially after convincing my mother that ignoring Halloween in America is against the law.

Maybe it's not too late. I don't think anyone can stop me from trick-or-treating. That would be age discrimination -- and I'm prepared to sue.

So if you happen to see a rather big creature at your door, give him lots of candy. He has to make up for many lost years.

He likes mints, peanut butter cups and malt balls. If you're nice to him, he promises not to run off with your pumpkins.