Shengliver’s Note: The Chinese teen is traumatised by the way the family creature was slaughtered.

 

Killing the family animal for the Spring Festival has been a time-honoured tradition in rural China. On the day, it is standard practice that family and relatives, as well as neighbours, get together to have a taste of the meat fresh off the pig. Pork not only is an indispensable ingredient for festival delicacies but also features significantly at festive ceremonies.

Last Sunday I returned to my hometown with my parents. The reason why we had to get back to our roots was that my grandparents would have their pig butchered. Before we set off from the city, I was curious about the way the animal would be slaughtered. I could not imagine how I would be reacting when I saw it.

Then I saw it. Oh, Lord! No words were adequate to depict the gory sight. The butcher hooked the pig by the snout. It was a curved sharp thing. A knife was stabbed into the neck. Blood instantly gushed out! I had sympathy for this pathetic creature. It took ages for my heartbeats to come back to normal, long after the creature gradually stopped squealing.

Later on, at the family banquet, as I was picking up a cube of freshly cooked meat and sending it into my mouth with chopsticks, I could not but recall the scene where the poor thing was being slain. At night, the animal appeared in my nightmares.

My parents told me, matter-of-factly, that next year I would have to go and help them kill a pig like that, for the Spring Festival at our home village. I was aghast at the very thought. Could I possibly be cold-blooded enough to put an end to a life? I have grave doubts.