MY VILLAGE THREW ME AN INDIAN GOAT PARTY

Most Westerners in India think they've had the full experience if they've drank a beer at Leopold's, done some Bollywood extra work, and taken a walk around the Taj Mahal. Some may even share a chillum with a baba, get psychoanalyzed by a naked guru, or bathe in the Ganges. I on the other hand had the privilege of seeing a stressed-out goat slowly putting two and two together as it watched another goat being decapitated with a machete. On my last day of volunteering in the remote village of Thandayankottai (population 165) I was summoned by my 13 year-old right hand man Veejaycun to a some kind of festive celebration. Granted, we spoke mostly in charades, but from what I could gather, there would be much food and we'd almost definitely get to eat it. I was instructed to wear my most formal attire: a collared shirt, a Doti (Indian version of a kilt), and some sort of turban. I resorted to a handkerchief around my head. We walked to the village square where the eldest member of the community was decorating a shrine in lavish colours. The entire village was lined up in an orderly fashion, which in India, is an exhibition in itself. One by one, they unloaded banana leaves full of rice onto the shrine before heading back to wait in the shade. Next, coconuts were cracked open, their milky insides carefully poured on and around the rice pile. My initial reaction of "Wow, it's a going away party!" was quickly quashed when I saw village elders in the distance killing a pig by dropping a huge rock on its head. Looking around I noticed several chickens and a two goats tied up with rope and vine. In the corner of my eye I saw an old man spit on a rock and scrape his Machete back and forth across the wet spot like some kind of demented violinist. Meanwhile, the villagers began a ritual. Resembling yoga but with chanting, it went kind of like: Hands in the air, hands to the ground, chant, hum, hands in the air, and so on. After a minute or so, it stopped and a weird feeling of anticipation settled over the crowd. An unsuspecting goat was led to the front of the shrine. Then, before I had the chance to ready myself, BAM! Off went its head. Headless but still on its feet, the goat staggered around while arcs of red pulsed from the stump of its neck. By now, the second goat was bleating and bucking in terror. Unable to calm the second goat, the elders moved onto the chickens (it's bad luck to sacrifice a stressed-out animal). Each Villager came forward presenting a hen to the designated head chopper who doused it in a kind of holy water. Then, BAM! Lights out. Unlike goats, headless chooks are actually hilarious. There where six of them, all flapping around in a complete spazz; bouncing off huts, running into trees, flying up the dresses of the female onlookers. The only thing missing was the voice-over guy from Funniest Home Videos. Finally, when everything was good and dead, we sat and feasted from banana leaves. Enjoying the extremely fresh chicken and goat, with piles of "coconutty" rice, we were also lucky enough to sample some of the locally made liquor. Food-stoned and tipsy, I later ascertained that it was all in the name of Miriam, god of the forest. I hope you're appeased Miriam. As for me, I'm looking forward to next year. The goat was delicious. FIONN QUINLAN