Alas, a blank day in my calendar! I slept in until 6:30 and would have the chance to do some laundry and get a start on germinating seeds for my garden. I had just finished up planting some squash in an egg carton and was debating whether my unsettled tummy could be the product of a disagreeable breakfast or amoebas when four breathless children came running up the path to my host family’s home.
–Janelly, ¡Apúrate! Préstanos tu camera.
Before I would commit myself and my camera to the wild goose chase that was sure to ensue, I tried to extract some details.
– Mataron un tigre… Lindo, mi primo, y mi tío. Están en la casa. ¡APÚRTATE!
Ay ay ay, the air in my lungs got caught mid inhale. They killed a tiger. For weeks of I had heard of a ‘tiger’ stalking about the outskirts of the community with an appetite for pigs (having claimed five); however, I hadn’t seen this coming. I gathered my camera and told my nerves not to betray me.
The cousins and uncle trio left that morning to hunt a tapir (a large, rare mammal, a relative of horses and rhinos) and had just retuned with a tigre pintado (‘a painted tiger,’ a jaguar). They were obviously still high on adrenaline and full of excitement, but still humble. In a state of culture shock and saddened, I hid behind my camera, taking the pictures they requested, restricting my comments to ‘There is better light over there. Remove your hat; your face is coming out too dark,’ and writing down picture orders while my eyes lingered on the gaping machete wounds on the jaguar’s neck. Hunting dogs had helped the hunters locate the jaguar, they had shot at her twice with their shot guns, and when she tried to hide under a fallen tree, she was claimed by a machete blow through her spinal cord. When the time came to dress the cat, I took my leave. My tummy’s unrest was coming to a peak.
They jaguar pelt is now hung and drying in town next to the school, and the hunter trio plans to sell it. They think they can make about two hundred dollars. The meat was smoked and deep fried and consumed by the hunters and some of their family members (some opted not to eat it). I have been told that traditionally Nasos did not eat cat meat as cultural belief is that it could lead to mental insanity. They said that the night following the kill, the cries of a cat were heard coming from the mountain. Saturday will mark a week since the kill, and it will be celebrated with chicha fuerte (a fermented juice, yucca juice in this case) and a traditional song and dance to scare away the tiger’s spirit.
1 comment:
Hmm, its probably a good thing you never actually came to see one of the meat lab harvests. Its a conflicting thing to say "poor jaguar" but also know that the kill probably benefits the community (no lost animals, less dangerous, selling the hide, etc.). Kepp well, and hope your garden turns out yummy :)
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