There was once a black and white spotted goat that belonged to the neighboring Masai tribe. This goat is no more. It all began yesterday when it was brought to the staff quarters, perfectly ignorant of its imminent destiny. Yet once it was tethered to the tree, the reason for his presence seemed to have dawned upon him and thus tried to make a daring escape. Having broke free of the rope that bound him to his fate he scarpered up through the bushes (much to everyone's annoyance) and almost made good his escape. The hunt was on and for the next 15 minutes both Caitlin and I, along with a few others, were in hot pursuit. I virtually fought my way through all the thorny Acacias to no avail and steadily became more and more frustrated with this aggravating goat. Eventually though the poor goat's valiant attempt at freedom was thwarted and it was returned to its original tethering post. The weather at that point seemed to perfectly reflect the goat's emotions and for 4 hours straight the heavens let loose a cascade of water which saved the goats life for the day... the staff had to make do with a vegetarian dinner.
The following day all thoughts about the goat were put aside as Caitlin and I continued to work in the maintenance department. Having finished my lunch I proceeded to return to my room only to be confronted with an invitation to help 'prepare' the goat for the staff's evening meal. I realised at once that this would certainly be one of the most memorable experiences of my time out here if I accepted the offer. The slaughtering of a goat is one of the most crucial aspects of Masai culture since 2/3rds of their principle diet (meat, blood and milk) stems from this act and so to participate in it would be a once-in-a-lifetime cultural experience. I, therefore, agreed to help but at the same time not trusting my body to quell any uncontrollable reflexes that might arise. I refrained from playing the role of executioner (I was afraid that I might make a mistake and therefore cause the goat to be in a lot of pain). I braced my ears for a horrifying bleat of despair to come from the goat, but it never did. Instead it died painlessly and peacefully (although the natural postmortem convulsions did take a while to stop). We then lifted the goat so that the blood could drain out into the water bottles that lay waiting underneath. Unfortunately during the process the entire contents of the goat's stomach cascaded down the open oesophagus and onto my shoe; not pleasant. Once the blood had been collected it was time to skin the animal. What caught me by surprise was how supple the skin was and how easy it was to remove it. After 15 minutes the skin was gone and it was time to remove the innards which were still warm... not really a very pleasant job either. Once the innards were gone we removed the head, amputated the legs and removed the rib cage. Barely 40 minutes after the goat was alive well, it's entire anatomy was reduced to a soft and fleshy pile in a large cooking pot. I certainly wouldn't call it an enjoyable experience, by no means. But at the same time it made me appreciate, even more, the strength and beauty of the Masai culture. Their entire livelihood, both monetary and dietary, depends on their livestock. Without it they would cease to exist. And for those that feel that the white and black spotted goat had a gruesome fate, I can promise you that the Masai people looked after it like it was their child. It probably had a vastly happier life than those that are bred in the many battery farms back in England.
Xaver
No comments:
Post a Comment