Squeal like a pig
Trip Start
Jan 05, 2009
1
34
43
Trip End
May 14, 2009
Chitimba, Malawi
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Afterwards I spent the afternoon cleaning the truck. A task that I previously didn't mind. I had my headphones on and I was in the zone, focusing on my work. For some reason people are drawn to others when they seem focused. Why is that? My afternoon was interrupted with all sorts of stupid questions that really didn't concern me. This is my rest day too. Leave me alone.
I've decided that next year I'm bringing custom aprons:
"Leave me alone, I'm listening to music"
"Give me shit, and I'll give you diarrhea"
Any other suggestions are most welcome
Dinner tonight: Roast Pig. Shanny approached me in the afternoon. "I would like to introduce you to tonight's dinner" he said. We walked around the corner to see two large pigs happily rooting in the earth.
"Do you think it will be enough?" he asked.
"I dunno, how much do they weigh?"
We were warned by Errol that they wouldn't be enough, so we arranged for a third.
I talked with the local boys who were arranging the feed. I told them that they must come and get me when it is time to kill the pigs. I want to watch. I want to kill one. I strongly believe that the world would be a better place if people had to kill every animal they ate. Boneless skinless chicken breast and ground beef are destroying our connection with the food we eat. Of course up until today, I'd never killed anything other than fish and crab. I felt nervous about the activities of the afternoon, and briefly considered a vegetarian lifestyle.
When the time came Paul decided to join in. He too was keen to be involved with the process. We grabbed one of the pigs, and threw it onto its side. The local boys tied its legs as it squealed away. They showed me where to stab it: behind the arm, into the heart. I was surprised that we wouldn't slit its throat, but I was assured that this was easier. I couldn't go first, I had to watch someone else.
One of the boys stood next to the pig, with out missing a beat thrust the knife into its heart. The pig shrieked and kicked, forcing us to hold it down as the boy wiggled the knife around its chest cavity, ensuring a good cut through the heart. The whole process lasted less than 30 seconds. We moved the pig over to a large basin where it was skinned with the aid of scalding water, then disemboweled and splayed open for the grill. A very lengthy process.
My turn. In retrospect the experience wasn't as disturbing as I expected. Kind of like cliff jumping really; don't think about it too much, just do it. The knife met little resistance as it slid into the cavity of the pig. The usual response of kicking and shrieking lasted for longer than usual as I struggled to locate the heart. Paul and two others had to hold the pig down. Eventually I got a good strike into the heart, the pigs body relaxed, and released its final breath as I removed the knife. The pig was moved to a basin for the next stage as Paul got ready for his turn.
I'll have the video of Paul killing the pig up soon. It does more justice than my writing.
The pigs roasted for hours over open coals. It was a delicious feast, enjoyed by some more than others.
