Min tibetanska barndom i Zorgay - Life and Culture on the Tibetan ...

Regardless of how much I liked our pigs, I knew they
were to be killed for meat. In Tibetan agricultural villages, pigs
are more pitiful than any other animal. They only eat leftover
food, <strong>and</strong> then they get slaughtered. Before my family killed
some of our pigs, I visited them <strong>and</strong> scratched their itches for
the last time. Tears of sympathy flowed down my dark cheeks
<strong>and</strong> splattered on their bodies. I said goodbye to them for the
last time. As I stood up to leave, they lifted their heads as if
begging me to release them <strong>and</strong> drive them to the mountains. I
left, covering my face with my wet h<strong>and</strong>s.
We hang pigs with ropes to kill them. The tamer the pig,
the easier it is to kill it because you can approach <strong>and</strong> put a rope
around its neck while other people st<strong>and</strong> ready to pull as hard
they can. Sometimes we must chase pigs in the pigsty to put the
rope around their necks, which is even more terrifying for them.
It is better to hang them easily <strong>and</strong> quickly. We used to burn
their bristles off with a fire outside, but recently people no
longer do that. Instead, we boil water, pour it over the carcass,
pluck the bristles out, <strong>and</strong> exchange them with Han people for
red pepper.
My family's pigs were very fat, thanks to my hard work
in herding them. Afterwards, all the villagers began herding
their pigs in summer. I was the first person in my home area to
herd pigs, <strong>and</strong> I might have been the only one who felt
compassion for them. The elders chant mani after they kill a
pig, but their demeanor is not sympathetic. They simply believe
that killing is a sin <strong>and</strong> chant to purify themselves.
Three pigs belonging to the author's family.
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