Moca, Blackie and Fennel
Blackie, the male goat kid, met his end this week; and I’m
not all that sure how to write about it.
It’s been a highly significant event for me during my stay here, but
also a very intense and quite traumatic one.
We’ve talked about eating the goat for a number of weeks,
and last week Kylah came to us and said that Tuesday would be the day. Blackie had reached sexual maturity and was
trying to mate with his sister and also he was of the age where he would need to
start being wormed, and the meat can’t be eaten once they are given worming
treatment.
It was good timing as Ebe, Zach’s brother, was due to leave
on Wednesday. He’d been here for a month
helping out on the farm, so the goat roast was a nice farewell dinner.
So, despite having been a vegan for around two years, I said
I was happy to eat the meat. Being vegan
hasn’t been an ethical choice for me, I simply feel and function better when I don’t
eat meat and dairy, so on this occasion deciding to eat meat was easy.
Tuesday came around and I was adamant that I wanted to watch
the goat being slaughtered, I felt that if I was going to eat the goat then I
should be able to watch it being killed; and watch I did. Jackson did the deed, he’s had experience with
slaughtering sheep, and he was confident in doing it. He did it with minimal stress to Blackie,
with respect and without hesitation. What
I was not prepared for was the blood curdling scream that Blackie cried out as
Jackson cut his throat. It was humanely
done and over very quickly, but was still far from being a nice way to die, but
is there ever a nice way to die? I wanted to experience and fully comprehend
the cold hard reality of eating meat, watching the animal being killed, and it
was one of the most intense experiences of my life.
The rest of the day was very enjoyable, it takes quite a lot
of preparation, work and time to spit roast a goat. Leah and I made the fire that provided the
coals for the roasting pit, and proud we were of it! Jackson skinned and gutted the goat and then
stuffed the cavity with a tonne of veggies and herbs, before it was placed on
the spit and roasted for five hours.
Woman made fire, ug ug.
Jackosn shovelling coals and Ebe constructing an oven like contraption around the roasting pit.
Roasting away, the crowd is getting hungry.
We eventually sat down to eat at around 9pm, by candle
light, and Jackson’s dad (Jim) who had come up for the day with Jack’s sister said a
very nice thanksgiving before we tucked in.
the meat was delicious and the atmosphere was wonderful. After eating we sat around the fire late into
the night, singing, playing music, and drinking beer as the milky way spilled
across the night sky above us. A
wonderfully memorable night spent with wonderful people.
Night falling, Jim strums the ukulele by the roasting pit.
The aftermath for me has been the replaying of Blackie’s
slaughter in my head a lot, I didn’t realise at the time just how deeply I
would be affected. It’s particularly
difficult as I knew Blackie, I’d spent time with him and that’s what plays over
in my head. Seeing him alive and then seeing his dying moments. I will spare
you the (literal) gory details, but I wont be eating meat again, as I don’t want
an animal to have to go through that just for me to be able to eat something
that isn’t necessary for me to live.
Bon appѐtit
Becky x
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