Eyeball to Eyeball with tonight’s dinner

I want to sue the Gaborone City Council. The city is considered an animal free zone, but Gabs could easily be mistaken for a zoo: cows, donkeys, goats, monkeys, you name them. Look, I don’t want to encounter my possible meal at my front gate but only on my plate, thank you very much. I thought about this recently when I opened my gate and bumped into a cow, bam, right at my gate. Such incidents have been many. I used to live in Tlokweng and moved into the city centre thinking that things would be better, but no, the situation is just the same.

Animals in this country have too much freedom and they are found everywhere, even where they shouldn’t be. At the rate things are going, I wouldn’t be too surprised to hear that they will now also start voting. These tjatjarag animals have even started showing human characteristics. I understand that the goats in Mogoditshane look left, right and left again before crossing the road. The cows stroll anywhere like they own the place, while the monkeys, found mainly around the Kgale area, grab shoppers’ plastic bags at Game City (I hear they like pie and hot wings washed down with Chill drink).

Tourists coming into the country and seeing all these animals in the city might be left confused as to whether our country is a zoo or cattle post as opposed to the so called rich diamond hub.

Now let me tell you something, I am a city girl to boot. I enjoy the convenience of being an urban dweller. While I am not proud that I am not familiar with some customs and practices of masimo and moraka, I am relieved that I won’t have to deal with that. Say what you want about the perils of the ‘microwave generation’ but the truth is, life has never been so easy. Imagine hunting for your own food every day. Aah! Chief among that is that I am scared of animals like cows, donkeys, chickens and goats. Furthermore, every time I look at a cow, I shudder and wonder why we eat such an ugly animal. I also don’t fancy the idea of slaughtering my own meat. I prefer popping into a store or ordering some at a restaurant. Look, whether it is donkey or horsemeat is the least of my worries. Pardon my ignorance but what I don’t know will not kill me, as long as the meat is tasty, edible and well done, I will tuck in!

Many years ago, during school holidays I was sometimes bused to Molepolole to visit my grandmother (MHSRIP). I loved her dearly, but I didn’t like village life. Although she tried to warm me up to it, I wouldn’t budge and I spent many days sulking because I wanted to return to lazing around and watching television in town, raiding the fridge, using electricity and other comforts. When her work for the day was done, it was time for my grandmother to fix dinner. She could fix the most scrumptious hot plate, but one day when I was visiting, she told me that I had to slaughter the chicken for that evening’s dinner. I nearly fell off my seat. Me? Slaughter a chicken? At that moment I wished the ground would open up and swallow me. But needless to say, I spent the whole afternoon chasing after the hen that had been singled out as my victim. The hen did not want to be caught just as much as I had no intention of catching it. So the hen and I circled each other. When I raised my hands pretending to pounce on it, the hen would jump with fright and I would scream as well, running in the opposite directions. Some of our neighours peered into the yard and stood around laughing at the chubby overfed town girl who was trying to slaughter a hen she was scared of. After heaving, sweating and puffing for a while, my grandmother came out from the kitchen where she had been watching me from behind a curtain, and with one swoop she took the hen. It wriggled beneath her strong grasp as, with the help of a neighbour, she slaughtered, plucked and cooked it. I did not have any meat with my dinner that night - I couldn’t bring myself to eat poor chicky.