By then end of one week, it was Reeces 18th birthday.
Seeing as we were in the middle of the African bush, presents were a little hard to come by, and after much secret deliberation, and further discussion with David, our project leader, it would appear the normal (and only) gift available would be a goat, bought from the local Masai tribe.
Now this seemed a good idea, especially as Reece was really struggling with the almost total vegetarian food in the bush. James and David negotiated a price, and we all chipped in. When the Masai brought the goat, who was calmly munching the bushes seemingly un-concerned with his imminent fate, it was time to tell Reece.
Somehow, it was decided I should break the news of his birthday gift. I got off my chair in front of my tent and approached Reece, who was sitting on his own little porch, i-pod on.
Shirley looked at me, motioning a "go on", and Reece sat up, removing his i-pod.
"Whats up?" he says.
I take a deep breath, thinking of how I can best I can describe our gift, which was contentedly munching the grass round the tree behind me.
Decision made, I start:
"Well mate, as it's your birthday... we bought you a goat to be slaughtered for you. It's over there if you wanna watch..."
A split second of silence, while Shirley and Mrs G shot me a ray-gun look, and Reece responded:
"NO!"
Pause. Shake of Head. "Nah, I ain't eating it. No way".
Pretty sure my pathetic half-brick sensitivity skills were no longer needed, I retreated back to my chair. Shirley took over, and calmly explained the economic benefits buying the goat has for the Masai community, the naturalness of it all, and the fact it is a cultural thing here, a once in a lifetime thing.
Reece, being the top lad he is, quickly reasoned with things and cracked on.
The slaughter itself was very quick, the only time the goat was unhappy was being held on his back, but then David quickly stepped on it's throat and drew his razor-sharp knife from one side of it's neck to the other. A single twitch and it was over.
The Masai party who had brought the goat quickly collected the blood to be mixed with milk later, leaving only a single blood-mark to indicate the slaughter had took place there.
Then they quickly and expertly skinned the goat using the knives that were always on their belts. Legs were broken and removed, stomach and intestines quickly spirited away for their tea preparations, and the ribs, legs, and all other meat-areas put on sticks for cooking round the campfire later. Reece, thankfully, was interested, posing for photographs and taking it in the cultural context we were now living in. He later conceded it was a good idea after all, much to our relief!
That night, the meat was on sticks stuck into the ground, slow-roasting next to the hot coals of the campfire.
We all cracked open beers, and Kimani, dressed in traditional chefs coat for this celebration, prepared the meat as it was cooked, removing the best cuts of meat and serving it to us with his special "Kimani BBQ sauce".
We drank beers and ate goat-meat until we were fit to burst, before settling around the roaring campfire, the sky alive with diamond-sharp stars, and the sound of zebra, hyena and elephants just about carrying on the wind.
Seeing as we were in the middle of the African bush, presents were a little hard to come by, and after much secret deliberation, and further discussion with David, our project leader, it would appear the normal (and only) gift available would be a goat, bought from the local Masai tribe.
Now this seemed a good idea, especially as Reece was really struggling with the almost total vegetarian food in the bush. James and David negotiated a price, and we all chipped in. When the Masai brought the goat, who was calmly munching the bushes seemingly un-concerned with his imminent fate, it was time to tell Reece.
Somehow, it was decided I should break the news of his birthday gift. I got off my chair in front of my tent and approached Reece, who was sitting on his own little porch, i-pod on.
Shirley looked at me, motioning a "go on", and Reece sat up, removing his i-pod.
"Whats up?" he says.
I take a deep breath, thinking of how I can best I can describe our gift, which was contentedly munching the grass round the tree behind me.
Decision made, I start:
"Well mate, as it's your birthday... we bought you a goat to be slaughtered for you. It's over there if you wanna watch..."
A split second of silence, while Shirley and Mrs G shot me a ray-gun look, and Reece responded:
"NO!"
Pause. Shake of Head. "Nah, I ain't eating it. No way".
Pretty sure my pathetic half-brick sensitivity skills were no longer needed, I retreated back to my chair. Shirley took over, and calmly explained the economic benefits buying the goat has for the Masai community, the naturalness of it all, and the fact it is a cultural thing here, a once in a lifetime thing.
Reece, being the top lad he is, quickly reasoned with things and cracked on.
The slaughter itself was very quick, the only time the goat was unhappy was being held on his back, but then David quickly stepped on it's throat and drew his razor-sharp knife from one side of it's neck to the other. A single twitch and it was over.The Masai party who had brought the goat quickly collected the blood to be mixed with milk later, leaving only a single blood-mark to indicate the slaughter had took place there.
Then they quickly and expertly skinned the goat using the knives that were always on their belts. Legs were broken and removed, stomach and intestines quickly spirited away for their tea preparations, and the ribs, legs, and all other meat-areas put on sticks for cooking round the campfire later. Reece, thankfully, was interested, posing for photographs and taking it in the cultural context we were now living in. He later conceded it was a good idea after all, much to our relief!
That night, the meat was on sticks stuck into the ground, slow-roasting next to the hot coals of the campfire.
We all cracked open beers, and Kimani, dressed in traditional chefs coat for this celebration, prepared the meat as it was cooked, removing the best cuts of meat and serving it to us with his special "Kimani BBQ sauce".
We drank beers and ate goat-meat until we were fit to burst, before settling around the roaring campfire, the sky alive with diamond-sharp stars, and the sound of zebra, hyena and elephants just about carrying on the wind.
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