Some happenings

The dead cat incident.

So I don’t know who decided that putting the dead cat in front of my house, but it was gross. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t hit by a car, it was still intact I have suspicions of the borracho across the street, but maybe not. I think I recognized the cat too. I used to watch him watching me through the kitchen window whenever he was walking along the rooftops of the neighbors. Sad. Anyways I really thought that something would just eat the thing or something. It was a little off to the side of the front gate, maybe it would just…disappear. I was wrong. 3 days latter (yesterday) I went outside with a garbage bag, a stick, and a mission. When I sat outside on the balcony, that sweet… ever so aromatic smell of a rotting flesh would waft up to the second level and drift slowly into the nasal cavity. Some of my neighbors (not the borracho) who happened to hanging out at the colmado, look on with amusement as I proceeded to double bag the decaying feline. All the while gagging at the pleasant view I had, of all the cute little, wiggling maggots fall off and out of the stiff. Biology. Gotta love it.


The Day the Ditches Turned Red (and the air smelled tasty!)

It was still dark in the 6:00 hour, but the sounds of the early morning alert my internal clocks that, yes, yes indeed It is my time to rise out of bed. On their way to work or run their errands, the riders of small, 125cc scooters and motorcycles, with no mufflers mind you, downshift and rev their engines so as to make it up the gentle hill my house lies on. At six o’clock in the morning, this sounds more like an angry swarm of bees has encompassed you, overtaken you, while you while simply observing a NASA shuttle launch. Yes. It was time for coffee. Normally as one drinks there morning coffee, reviewing the daily text or whatever it is they do with their coffee, one has the soft sounds of roosters doing their thing about eight feet away from head, or perhaps their neighbor, shedding a half pound or two in there “reading room”. Maybe there will be a dog that knows nothing, but that it has a voice. And wants the world to know it too.. Of course too some of the omnipresent Spanish music, most likely some Bachata or Meringue will always be playing in the background from a distant neighbor with loudspeakers and little concern about you and your commitment to drinking your coffee in the early morning hours in peace.

The first scream I heard came from a nearby home just around the corner. Barely fazed me. As this is not a human scream. Although similar at times, one learns to tell the difference….Either that or they all become non-human screams….a state of being I should be careful to avoid I suppose.

The second scream. I Little while latter, from the other direction. But still. No alarm bells had gone off.
A third.
A fourth.

What was going one?


Chancho.

Chancho is a pig. And, in the Dominican Republic, pigs are animals that should fear “Going for a walk” with there owners. As this, ultimately, means the death.

I discovered this fact one day previously in the ministry with Abad, The Indian/Puerto Rican Special Pioneerin my hall. We had just seen a man holing the ende rope in his hands, the other end carefully tied in a not-so-comfortable looking noose around Chanchos neck, Trotting down the road with not even a trace of concern or worry. In fact, I would even hazard to say..this pig was….smiling…

When I Inquired of this strange sight to Abad, He simply said “O he probably just got sold or something” ok not so bad. But then, raising his arm and pointing, he said “ ok, yeah, you see over there? That’s a carnaria (butchershop)..they to kill him and sell him”

“O”, I said.

Like the fulfillment of bible prophecy, on the way back to the hall for lunch, there was Chancho. Hanging on a hook(most of him it least) in front of the meat shop.

But this day, this day was different. This was not just your average one or to animals a day thing happening. Everyone was doing it. I have never seen so many Pigs “go for a walk” then on this day. The day before Christmas in the Dominican Republic... have fear little piggy’s. Cover yourselves with mud, and stay low to the ground, and maybe, you will be concealed of the day of Dominican hunger…
As was unlocking my front gate so as to pull out my motorcycle on the way to meet the service group, I saw exactly what the locals where doing.

Now as a way of explanation, The main streets here, like the one I live on, have steep drop-offs on either side. This is not simple to encourage people not to pass on the right, although it is effective at this. The reason for the deep trenches is that generally speaking there is no sewage in fracture, or in other words, when your wash your hands in the sink, this water is piped down into the street. Don’t worry though the toilet water should have a special septic leech field it needs to pass through first, or people just use an outhouse. Also of benefit, is that when it rains the water has a place to go and doesn’t just flood out the house everyday(just once or twice a year instead).

The result of these trenches is that in order to get from the street to your house, you need to construct a bridge of some sort, often this is down with a good solid 4” slab of concrete. Not only do this make an excellent foot bridge or, if wide enough, car bridge, it apparently makes a good platform for pig slaughtering. And you can’t beat the drainage. Needless to say, I witnessed the two next door neighbors of mine tie the feet of Chancho together, and well…see the title of the this section…

I never really considered myself a City person before. But this event kind of shed some new light on the matter for me. All part of how the food we eat makes it to the dinner plate I suppose.
But at least I gained some solace in the fact that as the day progressed, the air had that magnificent aroma of 11 million people slow roasting pork of over the open flame. Wherever we travelled that day, the sight of fully dressed pigs strung up on poles became more and more common to behold. One of the local sisters here ending up buying a whole bunch(I guess it’s cheaper then usual) and gave the Abads and I containers filled with giant roasted pork rib and plantains. Wow. Was that good. I didn’t eat the skin. I’m Not sure if your supposed or not. But I opt for the no skin or strange organs when have the opportunity,( “No thanks abad, here, you eat my portion of chicken stomachs, I just stuffed with all this rice, Tu Sabes?”

Yes it was a Morning of Hog screams and a night of a full belly. All and all an ok day