If I had to write about one strange incident today it would have to be about the bus ride to the British Council Library. After getting off one bus from Bwandilo we boarded another heading to area 12 - City Centre.
There, under three rows of seats lay three goats tied together at the feet, helpless and in distress. Now, generally I find it strange to witness goats bound flat to the backs of bicycles, heads limp and bobbing to the rugged terrain, eyes gazing perhaps to the life they watch become more distant as they approach their ultimate fate under the blade of a panga knife (or maybe the gaze is an expression of shock and by default, a submission to their captor), but in any event, a goat is an entirely different piece of cargo in comparison to chickens or fish--the usual baggage brought on board any transport here. What makes it so different (regardless of the fact that it just is different) is the sound that erupts from the very depths of its soul. A goat in distress with its eyes budding open and mouth ajar with fear, is a sight and sound that can disturb even an inanimate object. It's terribly unsettling and when you have goats hollering and babies crying from goats hollering you begin to feel uncomfortably disturbed.
Watching the plump stomach heave up and down I couldn't resist running my fingers across this pitifully helpless creature. Maybe I'd be able to instill calm through compassionate touch...I'm not sure, but as I am a symbol of the ram myself I did only what I could know to do by instinct (mind you I was invoked a little by curiosity too). But no, that doesn't change the fact that a goat near death is a goat near death. In an attempt to resist the shackles that bound its helpless body to the floor, a shrilling call out accompanied by outrageously violent sporadic convulsions makes sitting close to distress slightly dangerous. During this commute I was kicked fiercely by two tied hooves and as such the man sitting beside me (dressed in gentleman-like attire) placed his foot on its legs suppressing this goat further against its will.
Though I felt terribly for this goat--and the others that lay under the rows ahead--I couldn't help but wonder just how much it will be enjoyed on the table of its receivers. I could definitely go for some goat myself right about now....
There, under three rows of seats lay three goats tied together at the feet, helpless and in distress. Now, generally I find it strange to witness goats bound flat to the backs of bicycles, heads limp and bobbing to the rugged terrain, eyes gazing perhaps to the life they watch become more distant as they approach their ultimate fate under the blade of a panga knife (or maybe the gaze is an expression of shock and by default, a submission to their captor), but in any event, a goat is an entirely different piece of cargo in comparison to chickens or fish--the usual baggage brought on board any transport here. What makes it so different (regardless of the fact that it just is different) is the sound that erupts from the very depths of its soul. A goat in distress with its eyes budding open and mouth ajar with fear, is a sight and sound that can disturb even an inanimate object. It's terribly unsettling and when you have goats hollering and babies crying from goats hollering you begin to feel uncomfortably disturbed.
Watching the plump stomach heave up and down I couldn't resist running my fingers across this pitifully helpless creature. Maybe I'd be able to instill calm through compassionate touch...I'm not sure, but as I am a symbol of the ram myself I did only what I could know to do by instinct (mind you I was invoked a little by curiosity too). But no, that doesn't change the fact that a goat near death is a goat near death. In an attempt to resist the shackles that bound its helpless body to the floor, a shrilling call out accompanied by outrageously violent sporadic convulsions makes sitting close to distress slightly dangerous. During this commute I was kicked fiercely by two tied hooves and as such the man sitting beside me (dressed in gentleman-like attire) placed his foot on its legs suppressing this goat further against its will.
Though I felt terribly for this goat--and the others that lay under the rows ahead--I couldn't help but wonder just how much it will be enjoyed on the table of its receivers. I could definitely go for some goat myself right about now....
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