It’s hard to believe that tomorrow is the last day of December (and the last day of 2013)! While there are some days that drag on, time has mostly flown by. For the whole month, I’ve been fighting an on-again-off-again sort of cold. I started losing my voice at the end of November and since then I haven’t felt quite right. I was adamant that I had some kind of virus and that going to a doctor was futile. However, after suffering for so long, I figured I might as well go and get a second opinion. So, five days ago I took myself to Harar General Hospital. It was a small complex of several one-story buildings and didn’t resemble anything that I would think of as a medical facility. The staff took very good care of me though and gave me prompt service. Within 5 minutes of arriving (without an appointment), I had my blood pressure taken by a nurse. Immediately after, I was seen by a young doctor who was probably about the same age as me. He asked me my symptoms, listened to my breathe, and looked at my throat with a big flashlight. He wrote me a prescription for antibiotics (Amoxicillin) and a nasal decongestant. Five days later, I am feeling significantly better, but I still have some red spots on the roof of my mouth. I am hoping the symptoms don’t reoccur after I’m done taking all of the medicine. If so, I’ll have to take another trip to the hospital to find out what’s going on.
Other than not quite feeling like myself, December has been enjoyable. The beginning of the month was super busy finishing up my block course, but things have finally settled down a bit. A couple of weeks ago, I went back to Dire Dawa to enjoy sunshine and swimming at the Ras Hotel. Before jumping in the pool, our group of nine ordered lunch. It was taking a while and I nonchalantly complained about how hungry I was feeling. Moments later I felt something fall into my lap and roll onto my chair. I glanced down and thought it was a pinecone, but was mortified to see a bloody bone. I stood up and screamed upon realizing that it was a severed dog paw! Helen was sitting next to me and she stood up to take a closer look and was hit on the shoulder by another piece of bone! We were all so shocked. What was happening? An apocalypse? No. Just a vulture up in the tree above our table who must’ve had enough of the dog he was nibbling on. Last time I complain about being hungry...I just might get a lot more than I bargain for!
I’m not deliberately trying to turn this into a morbid post, but there has been a lot of bloody animal encounters lately. The next was, unfortunately, on Christmas morning. Helen and I had invited our usual group of friends over for dinner and decided to provide pork as the main dish. We had been in touch with someone about getting some pork from the swine farm here on campus. There had been some issues about how much pork we’d have to buy...at one point, we were told that we would have to buy an entire pig because no one else was interested in any. Eventually, we were told that we could have half of a pig, or about 40kg. The price was 50 birr per kilogram (about $2.58 USD). Pork dishes are hard to find in Ethiopia since few Ethiopians eat it; we were told that most of the pigs on campus are sold to Chinese people living in Ethiopia.
I’m not deliberately trying to turn this into a morbid post, but there has been a lot of bloody animal encounters lately. The next was, unfortunately, on Christmas morning. Helen and I had invited our usual group of friends over for dinner and decided to provide pork as the main dish. We had been in touch with someone about getting some pork from the swine farm here on campus. There had been some issues about how much pork we’d have to buy...at one point, we were told that we would have to buy an entire pig because no one else was interested in any. Eventually, we were told that we could have half of a pig, or about 40kg. The price was 50 birr per kilogram (about $2.58 USD). Pork dishes are hard to find in Ethiopia since few Ethiopians eat it; we were told that most of the pigs on campus are sold to Chinese people living in Ethiopia.
Anyway, we headed over to the swine farm Christmas morning to pick up our pork. I was under the impression that we would be given some freshly butchered pieces of meat and head out on our merry way. Well, I was gravely mistaken. When we got to the farm, we were asked whether we wanted a male or female – so much for pre-packaged, pre-killed meat! We didn’t know what/who we wanted, so the man working there chose for us. He walked into one of the pig sties with a blue rope. Immediately, the pigs started whining and running into their indoor sty to hide. Obviously, these creatures are smart enough to know that when someone comes into their sty, one of the pigs is coming back. The man chose a huge pig and tried to get it to come out of the sty. He had four local ladies holding onto the rope and pulling to drag the screaming pig out of the sty. At this point, I had to excuse myself from the farm. I love animals. I used to be a vegetarian and I went for over five years without eating any red meat.
From outside the gates of the swine farm, I could still hear the pig squealing for its life. It was probably the worst sound I’ve ever heard – so shrill and grave. I figured they were butchering it since it sounded so horrendous, but the process hadn’t even started. The squealing alone attracted dozens of vultures; they landed on the walls of the pig sties hoping to get a little piece of meat. As much as I did not want to see our pig butchered, I couldn’t help but look (from a distance). The man came back with a small knife...maybe a one-inch wide blade that was a foot long. Not at all what I had imagined. Well, I hadn’t really imagined that I would witness a pig being slaughtered. The four ladies held the pig down on its side while the man slit the throat of the pig. I couldn’t watch this part for very long. The pig made blood-curdling noises for at least three minutes...I did not think it would take this long for it to bleed out.
The pig was placed head first into a gutter to allow the blood to drain out. One of the ladies used a broom to sweep up the blood that had piled on the ground near the gutter. I couldn’t believe how well these young girls handled the whole process. I suppose it was nothing new for them, but still, it was gruesome and cruel in its own right.
Once the pig was most definitely dead, I had a much easier time of watching the butchering process. The head was left attached and the man began by slicing down the middle of the pig’s belly. He then began removing the skin. Every couple of minutes he had to stop to sharpen his one, tiny blade on the concrete wall next to where he was working. After removing the skin from one side, the pig was flipped over to remove the skin on the other side. Eventually the entire skin was off, but was left underneath the pig to act as a sort of tarp separating the raw meat from the dirty pavement below. I was surprised that this whole process took place right next to the pig sty...there was official butchering area hidden from view. This was it.
From outside the gates of the swine farm, I could still hear the pig squealing for its life. It was probably the worst sound I’ve ever heard – so shrill and grave. I figured they were butchering it since it sounded so horrendous, but the process hadn’t even started. The squealing alone attracted dozens of vultures; they landed on the walls of the pig sties hoping to get a little piece of meat. As much as I did not want to see our pig butchered, I couldn’t help but look (from a distance). The man came back with a small knife...maybe a one-inch wide blade that was a foot long. Not at all what I had imagined. Well, I hadn’t really imagined that I would witness a pig being slaughtered. The four ladies held the pig down on its side while the man slit the throat of the pig. I couldn’t watch this part for very long. The pig made blood-curdling noises for at least three minutes...I did not think it would take this long for it to bleed out.
The pig was placed head first into a gutter to allow the blood to drain out. One of the ladies used a broom to sweep up the blood that had piled on the ground near the gutter. I couldn’t believe how well these young girls handled the whole process. I suppose it was nothing new for them, but still, it was gruesome and cruel in its own right.
Once the pig was most definitely dead, I had a much easier time of watching the butchering process. The head was left attached and the man began by slicing down the middle of the pig’s belly. He then began removing the skin. Every couple of minutes he had to stop to sharpen his one, tiny blade on the concrete wall next to where he was working. After removing the skin from one side, the pig was flipped over to remove the skin on the other side. Eventually the entire skin was off, but was left underneath the pig to act as a sort of tarp separating the raw meat from the dirty pavement below. I was surprised that this whole process took place right next to the pig sty...there was official butchering area hidden from view. This was it.
Once the skin was removed, there was a layer of white fat. Ethiopians (the few who eat pork) eat every part of the pig except the hairy part of the skin. This meant that the fat could not be thrown out. Even though we did not want it, we had to pay for it. In the end, we left behind about 7kg of fat that we paid for, but had no desire to carry home (almost $20 USD worth)! The man sawed into each of the pig’s ankles and used his hands to break them off; when they wouldn’t break off, he twisted them around and around until they finally detached. Finally, he started cutting out hunks of meat; the ladies carried them over to a blue tarp that had been laid out. With a big, metal primitive-looking scale, they weighed the meat (and fat). They had agreed to let us take about 40kg of meat instead of the whole pig. Thank goodness because that was a huge pig! There were probably at least 70kg of meat all together and that would’ve gotten very pricey!
In the end, we paid for 32kg of pork, but 7kg of fat were left behind. The remaining 25kg were stuffed into a canvas fertilizer bag to carry home. After more than three hours, we finally got home. What a start to our Christmas! But there was much to be done, so we didn’t have time to mourn the pig’s death. Helen and her boyfriend, Dan, started trimming the rest of the fat off of the pork and I worked on peeling vegetables and other random preparations. Our original plan of serving food at 3pm was optimistic and we pushed our meal back to 6pm.
With the help of a lovely Couchsurfer from England, we were able to get everything together by early evening. We served honey mustard glazed pork, honey glazed carrots, mashed potatoes, roasted potatoes, gravy, stuffing, cheesy cauliflower, green beans with onions and garlic, and a tomato-cucumber-onion-beet salad. Of course there was plenty of wine and beer as well as Christmas cookies that we made the weekend before (cut-out cookies, coconut macaroons, and Andes Mint cookies – thanks to Emily Neilson for the Andes Mints)!
I forgot to mention that we did a Secret Santa gift exchange the previous day (Christmas Eve). Dan was our Father Christmas; he handed out the gifts to everyone. We opened our gifts one by one after sitting on Father Christmas’ lap! Interestingly, everyone received something that could be worn (a t-shirt, a belt, socks, a tank top, a scarf, a bracelet, and even spray-on deodorant). It was a lovely way to spend time together and not have to buy everyone a gift, yet everyone received something. It was a very, merry Christmas indeed!!
Some photos are below, but the rest can be viewed here:
https://plus.google.com/photos/113203084550986862848/albums/5962472474747831281
In the end, we paid for 32kg of pork, but 7kg of fat were left behind. The remaining 25kg were stuffed into a canvas fertilizer bag to carry home. After more than three hours, we finally got home. What a start to our Christmas! But there was much to be done, so we didn’t have time to mourn the pig’s death. Helen and her boyfriend, Dan, started trimming the rest of the fat off of the pork and I worked on peeling vegetables and other random preparations. Our original plan of serving food at 3pm was optimistic and we pushed our meal back to 6pm.
With the help of a lovely Couchsurfer from England, we were able to get everything together by early evening. We served honey mustard glazed pork, honey glazed carrots, mashed potatoes, roasted potatoes, gravy, stuffing, cheesy cauliflower, green beans with onions and garlic, and a tomato-cucumber-onion-beet salad. Of course there was plenty of wine and beer as well as Christmas cookies that we made the weekend before (cut-out cookies, coconut macaroons, and Andes Mint cookies – thanks to Emily Neilson for the Andes Mints)!
I forgot to mention that we did a Secret Santa gift exchange the previous day (Christmas Eve). Dan was our Father Christmas; he handed out the gifts to everyone. We opened our gifts one by one after sitting on Father Christmas’ lap! Interestingly, everyone received something that could be worn (a t-shirt, a belt, socks, a tank top, a scarf, a bracelet, and even spray-on deodorant). It was a lovely way to spend time together and not have to buy everyone a gift, yet everyone received something. It was a very, merry Christmas indeed!!
Some photos are below, but the rest can be viewed here:
https://plus.google.com/photos/113203084550986862848/albums/5962472474747831281