Goat

A long day of community meetings and site visits with no lunch. At 5pm we, colleagues and some Maasai, stopped for a snack at the local butchery, a small wooden room, dark. The smell of goat was pungent. We sit at the one wooden table, which is caked in years of grease and meat. A huge plate of goat is placed in front of me. I waited, thinking plates would soon be coming. The elder nodded to me saying, you are the guest of honor, dig in. There you have it, fingers in, and down it goes. Ugali, a stiff starchy staple, was then brought to the table, along with shredded cabbage and tomato. Down the hatch. After “lunch” we enjoyed sodas and sat around the table picking our teeth with tooth picks and talking about land issues, as other Maasai wandered in and out.