Sitting in the shade with the pigs.
The journey up the mountain was serene: blue sky and green hills. The closer we got to the market the more people walked alongside the dirt road, the more donkeys with overstuffed straw saddle bags, the larger the baskets on the women's head became.
It was already warm and humid and the road was a steady climb. Motorcycles zipped by carrying FOUR people with bags strapped on the front, back and side. Huge trucks carrying large bags of rice were piled even higher with people bringing their items to sell at the market. In the shadow of the mountains, sprawled across the land were at least a thousand tin-roofed lean-tos. They were filled with everything from clothes to electronics to cooking pots and food.
We were there to purchase goats. Sellers would dismount the truck or motorcycle with their chickens, pigs, or goats and walk to the area where those animals were being sold. We had arrived early and only a couple of goats were there. Each goat was inspected by looking at their gums, to ensure a healthy pink color and the sides of their spine felt to see how much fat they had. Acky did the buying while Ben and I sat in the shade holding the ropes. On the other end of these ropes were young, healthy female goats, about 6-8 months old.
We shared the shade with some rather rambunctious pigs; anytime one would get startled it would jump causing a chain reaction. Each pig was also attached to a rope that was tied to a stick pushed deeply into the soft mud. If one pig got out of line a brawl was bound to happen, hopefully not ending in the uprooting of their sticks. Especially since the pigs outweighed me by an easy 200 pounds, I decided to keep my eye on them in case they wrestled in my direction.
We slowly began accumulating goats, 2, then 4, then 6, 7, 8! They were easier to handle if they were tied in the back of the truck. That's when I looked in the field across the road and saw the donkeys, mules, and horses grazing and seeking out the shade. Looking at their tense muscles and heaving ribs, they definitely deserved a break. Even in the serenity of the mountains an unending supply of motorcycles, trucks and tap taps drove by, dropping people off, picking new people up. Those who arrived early and sold their goods then turned around, bought what they needed from the market and headed home. I watched as everyone came and went, struggling with their newly bought squealing pigs. Which were then hog tied and placed in their lap on a motorcycle for the trip home.
When all seventeen sought after goats had been purchased it was our time to descend back down the mountain. These goats had a long journey ahead, not just down the road but to their new owners: the children of Merger.
These goats are generally already bred and pregnant and are then given to a child that is then responsible for their care. The children go to class to learn about types of forage, how to care for the goat, and more importantly how to make money by making sure the goat is healthy. For a lot of these children, the goats and their offspring are their families' main source of income. The better care the goats receive the more kids it can produce, the more money can be made. These goats don't cost that much money, maybe $30-35 US dollars. But what these goats represent is priceless: hope, the chance at a better life, self-respect, and a sense of responsibility are things you can never put a price tag on. The excitement in the air is electrifying, each child runs to their goat, and tightly gripping their rope walks home with their head held high.
And to think this day all started by sitting in the shade with the pigs.
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