08 July 2010

Goat


The first time I ate goat was in the United States, if you can believe it. MAF had us participate in some cultural training while we were in Nampa, and that included eating with a group of Sudanese refugees, who were Muslim. Most of the time was spent nodding and smiling at each other—the women insisted that we help them in the kitchen—but the oldest son did speak fairly good English. We knew the meat was hallal, which is meat that’s been slaughtered according to Muslim purity rules, but we couldn’t tell if it was beef or goat…he claimed it was goat, but he wasn’t too involved in the preparation, so we couldn’t be sure. However, now I can tell you for certain: goat is most tasty, and if you ever get the chance, you should definitely try it. I had to share some of mine with David yesterday, because he was distracted by Haitian cabbage and missed the goat coming through the lunch buffet at a friend’s house. He’s lucky to have a wife who loves him so much.

Goats are like cows here, only better—you can’t let your cow wander all over town, but goats seem to have free reign of Pignon. They’re quite a bit cuter, too, though the kids cry sometimes at night and they’re covered with fleas…which you can’t see until you get up close to take a picture of it. They don’t have any kind of indicators (that I can tell) in order to designate ownership, but everyone here claims they can tell them apart. Every once in a while, you’ll see some kid out there with a stick, trying to round up all his goats, usually on a Friday night, since market is on Saturday. The wresting match that ensues when people try take their goats into the stall at the market where they’re sold or slaughtered is quite comical—somehow, the goats know that this is NOT a place they’d like to go and decide that it’s time to drag their hooves. Once they buy them, people often bind their hooves together and stick them on the back of their cart or motorcycle, hanging upside down. This does not make for a happy goat…but it does make for a fresher dinner whenever you eat him. A nice goat goes for $40 American, so it’s a significant investment, and there’s a code of honor here that you don’t mess with another guy’s goat. If you kill a goat with your car, you owe him big time…because, of course, that was his best and nicest goat, no matter which one you killed.

Since goats are inclined to roam, they figure that since they can’t fix all the doors and fences to keep them out, they’ll just fix the goats…most goats are outfitted with wooden “collars” to prevent them from wandering in houses and yards where they shouldn’t be. And sometimes, it even works. Unfortunately, when they do get into places they should be, they’re not terribly easy to frighten away…I guess I need to spread around how tasty I think they are, and maybe they’ll disappear!

We love you guys. Please pray for the shipment packing, commencing this weekend!

2 comments:

  1. We will pray for the shipment and a plce for you to live. I ADORE the pictures of the goats and your blog about them.

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  2. Dear David and Christine,
    You bring your experiences in Haiti to life...even goats! A lot of love went into getting your shipment packed and sent. Now we will trust the Heavenly Father to get it to you, safely.

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