A Lamb is Slain

***Warning:  Graphic***

"Understand, when you eat meat, that something did die.  You have an obligation to value it--not just the sirloin but also all those wonderful tough little bits."--Anthony Bourdain

I believe that if you eat meat, you should be able to kill the animal yourself.  So far, with the exception of fish, I've remained a complete hypocrite.

A month ago I took a step toward my conviction, and watched my Mauritanian friend kill and dress a sheep.

It was a somber experience for both Eric and me.

But before we get to the gruesome murder scenes...I have to mention that this sheep didn't look like a sheep to me.  How can it be called a sheep if l can't knit a sweater from its wool?

So I embarked on a journey to educate myself.  And to my sheer (sorrry!) amazement I learned that there are wool sheep and hair sheep.  The latter being quite common here in Southern Africa.

The before photo.

The first cut

Blood draining into the hole

Waiting for all of the blood to drain

After butchering the animal, my friend tossed the liver and testicles on the hot grill for us to sample.

Somehow I'd lost my appetite, so I declined.

I did sample the BBQ'd lamb shish kabobs the following day.  And I had a new respect for each and every bite.

Malawi or Bust

"If you reject the food, ignore the customs, fear the religion and avoid the people, you might better stay at home."  --James Michener

I agree with James Michener, so I followed Stacy to her home.  "Come, I want you to be my friend," she said.  

Stacy and crew

She rolled out a mat and poured me a cup of tea.  Then she set down a bowl of small fish and bread and asked me to eat.  I sipped at the tea and ate one fish and prayed that my stomach wouldn't suffer any consequences.

Fried fish

Stacy wanted to be my children's nanny.  "Please take me back to Zambia with you.  All you have to do is get permission from my Chief, and then I can go.  It's no problem."

I explained that my government would not allow me to bring a 13-year old to my home, no matter what her Chief said.  This didn't make any sense to her.

It broke my heart that Stacy was desperate to leave one of the most beautiful places in the world:  Lake Malawi.

Cape Maclear

It's about a 14-hour drive from Lusaka.  That is, if you don't miss a crucial turn, because then it's an additional four hours.  Several times we ejected Isaac and made him run, much to the amusement of local goats.

Still not tired after a mile.

Buying carrots from roadside vendors

Fun Fact #1:  Lake Malawi is the 3rd largest lake in Africa.
Fun Fact #2:  It is the 8th largest lake in the world.

According to locals there are no crocodiles in this part of the lake.  Our guide book added that Lake Malawi crocs are shy.  It was a little unnerving to snorkel and wonder if I'd run into a rare "extroverted" crocodile...or hippo, for that matter.

Isaac chillin' after snorkeling

Wikipedia reports that Lake Malawi is home to more species of fish than any other freshwater lake IN THE WORLD.   

Translation:  The snorkeling is phenomenal.  (The fine print:  you'll probably get Bilharzia in a couple of weeks, so enjoy the experience!)

I'd like to give kudos to the "Mbuna" chichlids which are maternal mouthbrooders.  This means that the mama fish keeps the fertilized eggs and hatchlings in her mouth. 

Fish Drying in the Sun

Dugout Canoes

Scary white doll #1

The "Toilet Here" sign was 3 feet from this rock.

The kids made German friends who took them out in their boat.

Alex with braids

Eric's Favorite Place 

We took a hike along the lake and witnessed a turf war between troops of baboons.  Between screeching primates and my persistent ophidiophobia (fear of snakes), I nearly suffered adrenel overload.  

But my exotic critter anxiety was unfounded.  It was the Black Lab from our lodging that bit Isaac.   It was just a scratch, and the owner, thankfully, provided the rabies vaccination certificates. 

The night before we left, another woman, Emma, invited Alex and me to her home.

Walking to Emma's home

Emma cooking corn porridge for us

Emma's daughter with scary white doll #2

Emma prepared beans and "Sima", a corn porridge.  We ate together.

It was awkward.

You see, James Michener, I don't have any problem eating foods in other countries with other people from different religions.  That I enjoy.  But I'm finding that these meals and friendships often come with strings attached:  

Be my benefactor.  You drive a vehicle that costs more money than I will see in my lifetime.  Surely you can bankroll my life.  And my sister's life.  And my sister's friend's mother-in-law's life.

"African Friends and Money Matters" is an excellent book describing how Westerners and Africans

 view money very differently.  The only problem is that this book lacks a solution for my dilemma:

How do I be a generous friend and not just a "Sugar-Daddy"?  

I asked Eric on the LONG-DRIVE-HOME if he wonders if development organizations are making a difference here.

"Sure.  And I think we've made mistakes over the years.  But our choice is to give up and walk away or we can try to do things better.  Jesus says we're supposed to help the poor, so I'm committed to the latter, because I believe that things can improve."

Ah, my sweet husband who will discuss deep things with me.   

Then Isaac piped up from the back seat, "Hey, Mom!  Guess if I have a Doritos chip in my belly button or not."  Ah, my kids who make me laugh.

Life is good.  Complicated and messy, but good, I thought.

Little did I know that somewhere in my journey I'd picked up another amoeba in my belly and trouble was a-brewin'.