From time to time I have shared my complex, confused relationship with consumption of meat. In "Chops and Changing", the very first piece in my collection of columns from this paper, titled Eat, drink and blame the ancestors, I detail the journey that led to my vegetarianism for eight years. More recently I shared in more detail how it came about that I returned to more "archaic", environmentally unfriendly, flesh-munching. Events over the Easter weekend compel me to return to the subject.
Two years ago one of the uncouth savages I call my friends and I were chilling at his house on Good Friday. We were bored because the other riffraff we ordinarily consort with was not available to come out and play. He was busy with those five-hour-long Good Friday services, Holy Mass and whatnot. Sitting around, scratching our family jewels and impressing each other by quoting Jack Nicholson lines from A Few Good Men seemed like a waste of a perfectly good Friday and the rest of the weekend. So we started thinking: "How can we entertain ourselves this weekend?"
One of us went, "Eureka! We both haven't tasted free-range, freshly slaughtered goat meat in yonks! Let's do just that!" So we proceeded to do just that. I pointed out to my friend, Zamani, that when Frank Costanza (George's father), the fictional character from Seinfeld, started an alternative holiday to Christmas, he'd given it a name; "Festivus for the rest of us". We also needed a name for our alternative holiday, I argued. This is how "Umkhosi Wokuphanyeka" (the feast of the goat) was born.
Fast forward two years and we were ready for the third feast. The number of participants in our feast has grown over two years. It seems goat meat is popular. And with good reason. Freshly slaughtered goat is significantly more flavoursome than lamb that has gone through the supply chain.
Here is where this year's Umkhosi Wokuphanyeka got a bit tricky. After we collected the Dennis (township lingo from a famous beer-guzzling goat called Dennis from the '80s) in a van, we let it loose in my friend's yard. It frolicked around, grazing on my friend's shrubs, bleating intermittently.
We heard a noise at the gate. Upon inspection we found a note. It read (verbatim): "Dear Sir/Madam. There is an animal in distress on this property - we assume you are aware of municipal regulations which forbid the keeping of animals in suburban areas. The slaughter of animals is as we are sure you are is forbidden in suburban areas" (sic).
It was unsigned, nor was there an address or family logo on it. Based on the dubious grammar and atrocious punctuation I assume it must have been written by someone in a hurry, gravely upset or semi-literate. Or, most likely, all of the above. I'm not sure how this neighbourly genius leapt to so many conclusions about slaughter and a creature in distress. My friend could have intended to keep it as a pet. Maybe it was a clairvoyant goat and my friend wanted to consult the ancestors.
Dennis didn't seem in distress, judging by the delightful tail shakes as it munched on the succulent leaves. Both of us have vast experience in handling goats in a manner that causes it the least anxiety. We believe a happy goat makes tender meat.
The issue has been a flash point. I remember a hu
ge public spat after the halal slaughter of cattle in Westville in the mid-'90s. More recently we had the Melville WhatsApp group debacle and the Clifton sheep incident. We yell past each other and honesty is usually the first casualty of these shouting matches.
Folks such as my friend's neighbour hide behind bylaws when the real issue is that they have a general problem with African customs, including animal slaughter. In "safe" spaces strong words such as "barbaric" get thrown around.
I wish my friend's neighbour hadn't been so yellow-bellied and approached us for an honest chat about it. But this individual has no issue with a braai and writes notes about animals in distress. As long as the former bearer of the baby sheep chops in their freezer is slaughtered out of sight, they are okay. Working in the food-processing industry I visited abattoirs and chicken-processing plants - not for the faint-hearted.
As my friend and I sat on the patio enjoying succulent, tender garlic-and-herb infused leg of goat and goat biryani with our friends and families the following day, a conversation was had about human consumption of meat. Points were made that there is no such thing as a "humane" way of killing animals. Yes, it is laughable that folks who see nothing wrong with consuming oysters alive and eat lobster that is boiled alive would characterise the slaughter of a goat as "barbaric".
I'll end this with my grandmother's words on this matter: "No one has any business eating an animal they are not prepared to kill themselves."..