A scorching hot day at the river Carib beer in hand cars leaves a trail on the roads tassa and soca music fills the air!
The coal pot above the fire side, taking a curious peep, someone shouts “the curry duck not ready yet” a couple more minutes it would be alright. The aroma definitely set the tone senses going wild anticipating the first bite with buss up shut or dhalpourie simply delectable.
However, waiting could sometimes get your mind wrapped up in a tale spin, thinking about the series of the events before the duck arrived into the coal pot, all that’s missing is the background sounds from the Friday 13thhorror flick soundtrack and instantly you’re ready for a block buster hit!
Believe it or not as crazy as this sound that curried duck may have been someone’s pet.
I’ll be the first to admit I’m an avid supporter of chicken meals; I do battle with my conscience from time to time, especially when I see cages of chickens being driven on the highway to some location.
Burning questions do evade my thoughts were these chickens read their rights, did they go before a magistrate in poultry land, was there a jury present and another interesting factor were they ever called upon to plead for their lives before heading to their final destination. Meditating on their demise could definitely have a profound effect on one’s psyche, kind of funny if you ask me.
Sean one my friends often relates the tale of his duck ‘whitey”, and the reason which lead to his decision to not consume duck meat! Apparently when he was nine years old he had two ducks he took care of them diligently, they played and spent lots of time together, their bond was admired by the family, and he view ‘whitey’ as has proud possession his pet friend for life.
One day on his arrival from school he called out to ‘whitey’ no response he paid little or no attention especially since ‘whitey’ was known to visit the neighbors from time to time. Soon the sheer horror came he called out to his mother she was in the kitchen cooking he asked “what’s for dinner”? She replied curry duck with roti. Sean started to scream he ran outside frantically looking for ‘whitey’ he found the cutting board by the pipe, blood a knife and all of ‘whitey’ feathers laid around no further evidence was required his precious white duck was cooking in the pot!
Imagine the enormous amount of conflicting emotions Sean had to deal with, when it comes to the matters of the stomach its survival of the fittest. At nine years old, that seemed ludicrous, after all ‘whitey’ was a member of the family, my friend, pet and alive before he went to school. Little or no time to conform to this idea of eating my pet, since the prehistorical days the food chain was defined leaving room for no ambiguity what so ever.
Thus far thank god we human are the not on the food chain list but animals are, and as time progresses and creativity, opportunity presents itself the reality of cooking someone’s pet isn’t a fairy tale or scenario. In strange circumstances beyond your control a pet maybe branded as livestock whether it’s a chicken, duck or trini style rabbit or an agouti. The question pose though are we bad persons for making that decision?
A kid once mentioned to me his dad told him his rabbit was dinner, he said he laughed because the concept was so ridiculous to conceive or even believe. As a child it hard to picture the outlook for the greater good Sean was unable to cope with the loss because he was never consulted, his feelings were not taking into consideration.
His pet was his territory, I guess the reason why today it’s easy to eat without developing a mutual conscious is because its someone else pet and their aren’t no strings attached, no heart ache or loss to deal with. We may reflect in some way or other, but wisdom has always been the master mind weaver defining factors which seem rather critical, cynical to grasp at first. The circle of life is a continuing fact never wavers from realism and practicality.
So whenever you are in a jam and need to cook someone’s pet a little negotiation can make a huge difference to the owner. Try to avoid irreparable damage for years to come.
By Nicole Fisher