A deeper love, a swine love

My doctor told me the other day that I should avoid red meat, and I was amused by his presupposition that I do take the bloody meal. To cut a long story short, I don’t, or I rarely do anyway. I might spin a holistic tale as to why I don’t indulge in a pastime that is clearly a favorite of several Kenya men, but I have only one reason: my teeth hurt like hell when I do. So I take a piece or two when I see hungry pips gluttonously devour these tasty flesh, choosing to foregone the expected relish and satiety for the sake of bodily peace, for aching teeth can be a swift vehicle to hell and back.

As human beings we are always faced with several choices/alternatives on how best to satisfy our needs, wants and fetish. So to cure my cannibalistic tendencies, inherited from our hungry ancestors, I choose to take pork as an alternative to red meat. Let me digress a little and tell you why I find myself writing a piece on swine, despite my current writers block. Last week I went to see a physician due severe constant discomfort on my tummy. After several tests, most of them clearly unnecessary, the doctor proudly proclaimed that he had diagnosed my ailment. “Eureka,” went the doc “I have found it.” Okay maybe I’m hyperboling it a bit, but I can’t help and try to bamboozle you my reader, by bombarding you with slightly conceited words from the queen’s language. But then again, after two decades of using the language, previously imported here on a ship (laughter at this point), we should be pretty good with it; better even than the damned Brits and their nosy pronunciation of words. Anyway, I have amoeba and the doctor suspects that it might be caused by my over consumption of swine flesh; and I grudgingly accepted to stay off my lifeline for a while even though I can feel my life force diminishing every minute.

I love pork, the softness of this delicacy as it fragments while ground by my unrelenting teeth is to die for, excuse my use of teenage idiom. I love it fried, deep fried and especially roasted. I love it with kachumbari and without, with ugali or chapo, with sukuma by the side or without. I watch a pig going bout its business and in a cartoon fashion, I see a large chunk of delicious meat walking on, ready to be devoured and digested. I read the animal farm and while my mind should be digesting the plot analysis, I’m longing to face those damned pig that are better than others and see whether they taste better too. And I harbor a dream to ran a pig farm, and every weekend choose the fattest pig and slaughter it; and together with my friends fall upon it with a wrath from hell, leaving only bones as testament of our melee. And in this feasting orgy will be invited other ardent swine lovers in order of their seniority. Some of this individuals who have distinguished themselves as being worthy of mention, in the tracking and perpetual eating of our beloved swine are: Grace being the Vice chairlady, ivy as the Treasurer, Antony (though not a taker, is always discovering new joints and facilitating acquisition of the blessed meat) will be organizing sec, and Po will be secretary; keeping records to be used against defectors in the future.





19 responses to “A deeper love, a swine love

  1. hahahahaha this article made me laugh soo much plus now am craving some swine jeez sunday we r having some Evans a must….i have heard iyo place opposite catholic church ina Pork poa sana we shld try

  2. na si you’ve dramatized the whole pork eating event…hehehe…somebody’s cuckoo about pork.lol…

    as for me, i find pork tasting like a pig. no one understands me when i say that…but it has a smell when its in your mouth that reminds you a pig died…*wrinkles nose..so,do i hate pork??..nope…do i love it??..*shrugs shoulders…

    • wee u seem to be suffering from a psychological paranoia whereby the meat manifests the animal traits while your ingesting the product. seek psychological counselling, for i am an avid pork lover and the meat does not smell like its owner, this is just a case of mistaken characteristics, hmmm

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