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Looking down from our balcony we could see the head sitting on the cement floor next to a pile of herbs and a bucket of intestines. We took turns taking pictures. It wasn’t really gross, just curious. A pigs head on the floor and an old woman next to it, carefully cutting open the intestines with a scissors so they could be washed out and prepared for serving.

Adam and I found ourselves at the balcony together, observing and passing a few thoughts. How many people would turn away in disgust to see a severed pig’s head sitting, still bloody, on the floor? It seems brutal. And yet, we also eat pork chops in the United States. It isn’t pretty, but it is the reality of pork chops. The pork we buy in the U.S. has little resemblence to the animal it once was, being neatly packaged on syran-wrapped styrofoam with a sticker to tell us what it is: “pork tenderloin“. We know it’s a pig, but we’re not often brought face to face with it like this, so to speak. Hotdogs aren’t quite so honest, and we can be thankful that they’re not.

Even though it’s slightly horrifying to see the head and watch a woman cutting open the guts, it is nice to know that very little goes to waste. And it’s a healthy perspective, remembering that death is an every day part of our lives, in all its commonplace brutality.

Later, as we’re ready to go, we hear some excitement just outside our “lu guan’s” doors. A crowd is building as a man appears to be hitting a woman amid angry shouts and cries of alarm. The fight sways and swarms, and another man is now involved. He has in his hand a square wooden stool and it cracks loudly several times over his pursuer’s head. Somehow the man with the stool is restrained. One of the men is bleeding down his face. The fight breaks apart, then rushes to resume several times. Finally, the more clear-headed neighbors restrain the angry assailants.

I am surprised at my body’s reaction. I have put out adrenaline and my heart is racing. My blood pumps. I am ready; the fight or flight response. Pretty curious. I’m just watching. My blood races in my live veins, the pigs blood is cold sticky, the fighters’ blood is “hot”, while the injured man’s blood trickles.

Life and death are all bloody affairs. And it’s somehow real. It’s basic. Seeing blood reminds us of life and death, and it’s simple. It’s raw. And it’s not even ten a.m. on a Wednesday, so there’s much to think about.

This entry was posted on Thursday, November 1st, 2007 at 8:18 am and is filed under Drew's Posts. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.