Doomsday for Hungarian pigs finally came yesterday. We left Budapest for Kakisc at 5 am with Janos and his hilariously clunky VW van. The pig-killing festival at Kakics reminded me of one episode in Laura Ingalls’ Little House of the Prairie series when her family slaughtered a pig, biology lessons, how I’m born in the year of the pig according to the Chinese calendar, and of Wilbur in “Charlotte’s Web.” I had seen animals killed before, although none larger than a pig, but I figured I could handle a pork-stocking up, (not pig-killing) experience. After we arrived and the van unloaded, the pig killing began. A man got into the pig pen, locked up one into the inner area of the pen, and with a circular ring-like metal piece attached to a long wire, started to corner the other (female) pig. It started running like mad in the limited space available and squealing, screaming something awful. That was the first time I heard a pig scream, and it was too human for me to handle. I forgot that pigs have the intelligence of dogs and also that they too, can have those woeful puppy-dog looks. I bolted around the corner of the building where the faint-of-heart group (Janelle and the Heffner brothers) were, far from the view but not sounds of the killing. The screams stopped suddenly with a whack on the head with a hammer and a slit of the throat (as Calvin witnesses told me). The piglets in the next pen were caught one by one, tranquilized and put into a truck, sold to another villager. Each way the piglets behaved, frantically dodging, frozen in spots with terrified eyes, reminded me again and again of the scene when Wilbur found out pigs are raised for food and cried all night long. The sow, locked in the inner was distraught, and a boy had to push against the door to prevent her from escaping, which she did once. A lady was called in to help catch the piglets which she did ferociously go after in high heels and did a better job than the man. The man catching the piglets took breaks of palinka, and when that was done, while blow-torching the dead pig’s bristles off, he lit a cigarette with the blow-torch—now that’s the way to go. Janos called us into the museum to show us around, and also to distract us from the ‘dissection’ of the pig. He himself had disappeared when the pig was being killed, which I thought was funny (later he told us he had wanted us to come early so that we could see the whole process).
The pig suspended in the air by hooks, and the man started to cut it into pieces. It started looking more and more like pork and not pig, the pieces were recognizable, but the smell of the pig pens and raw flesh was nauseating. While butchering the meat, the man peeled off the top pig skin layer, sprinkled it with salt and ate it…raw (well, cooked some by the blow-torch). I felt rather squeamish because he was handle raw pork and eating at the same time. He offered pieces of the skin around, and focusing on the fact that he had eaten the pig skin before and the freshness of the meat, I ate a piece. It had the texture of rubber, and a very porky taste…I had eaten this before, except it was fried and tasted much better that way to me. The soup of the organ stew and the meat stew served tasted fine to me, but I could not eat pork with the pig pen and raw meat smells around me, so I ate a lot of bread. I felt less guilty when Andrew told me I was more noble then he (he could not stand to see the pig killed, yet ate the meat).
I enjoyed seeing Janos, Steve, Geza and the other Hungarians I knew again. I got to see Janos' family (his youngest, 3 in Feb, Lily is such a cutie). Zsofi gave me the Hungarian/European double cheek kiss greeting...the only Calvin person, and I felt special. Janos and Prof Sterk came up asking what I would be doing for Christmas..bulls' eye! Either someone told her I was having problems there, or Janos asked if anyone would be around. Either way, I hope Janos emails soon so I can buy train tickets, etc. Walking to the neighboring village, Sellye, a half-hour away allowed me to savor the beauty of this countryside region and appreciate the time there. As the semester draws closer and closer to the end, I find myself appreciating the little things about this semester and being thankful for all that has happened. I never imaged I would have the chance to see parts of the world closed to many tourists, and experience life with the locals. Just as studying in the States was a dream difficult to imagine, so is coming to Europe. God is indeed bringing me into so many amazing situations and places.