Today is an island wide holiday; Gospel Day. Today also happens to be dedication day for a brand new church in Tafunsak, the town which my house sits 10 feet from the border of. The event is huge for the entire island. All households attend, dressed in their ‘Sunday Best’, to see the ribbon cutting ceremony and to attempt to get a seat at the first mass held in the new church. Almost all people here practice the same religion, which is Congregationalism. The Protestants who came as missionaries certainly sealed their deal. The church is the most vital and important part of each community, and an event like this is the closest thing to a carnival that will happen here. Upon arriving, people are decorated with plastic strings of giant gum balls, and a towel wrapped in ribbon (resembling an impromptu halo) is placed on their head. ‘Take out’ is of course a pivotal point in the day, with large containers containing 15 different food items being donned out.
It is tradition, for a church dedication, that the senior male of each household donate a pig. The pigs are killed, cleaned, and gutted by the men at their homes the night before, and picked up by various trucks collecting carcasses to bring to the dedication event. At the event, they are laid on palm leaves on the ground, in giant piles for the 4 different towns.
Last night, I can sincerely describe as nothing short of nightmarish. It seems that ‘quick and painless’ isn’t a concept highly valued in slaughter here. While I am unclear exactly how it is done (some people report clubbing the animal to death, others report stabbing it to death), it certainly involves much pain and struggle for the animal. I felt as though I lived in Little Shop of Horrors last night, as I was awoke to screaming 3 different times. I can safely assume the killing and cleaning process must take 2 hours, as I awoke at 10pm, 12am, and 2 am, to the shrill sounds of an animal in pain. The word screaming is the only word applicable, and at times the similarities between what I head and the sound of a child screaming were bone-chilling. The process of actually killing the animal took between 4 – 8 minutes per slaughter, and in each of those moments, I shared the poor pig’s terror. There is a reason I am a vegetarian – and last night solidified that reason for life.
Seeing the dead pigs today, was especially difficult after a night of no sleep and animal cries. I knew the pigs were being killed for the event, and knew I’d be seeing meat in some manner – what I didn’t know is that the animals would not yet be cooked, and would simply be laying, whole, along the roadside. The skin of the animals was intact, but the hair had been scrubbed off, and they looked as though they been slathered in war-paint, as the blood covering their bodies was still bright red.
Seeing the dead pigs today, was especially difficult after a night of no sleep and animal cries. I knew the pigs were being killed for the event, and knew I’d be seeing meat in some manner – what I didn’t know is that the animals would not yet be cooked, and would simply be laying, whole, along the roadside. The skin of the animals was intact, but the hair had been scrubbed off, and they looked as though they been slathered in war-paint, as the blood covering their bodies was still bright red.
We arrived at the celebration shortly after 8am, and by 10, the scent in the air was my indication that I had put in my time. Blood definitely has a smell. A smell, I won’t soon forget. With the temperatures here being so hot and humid, I can’t imagine how quickly these animals would spoil – nor did I want to stick around to find out what the process would entail.
I hope PETA never discovers this island.
I hope PETA never discovers this island.
Because I like to end things with an upside, I will say:
It could have been "The Gospel according to Goofy".
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