Travel Diaries Part 4: Blood


What can wash my sin away?
Nothing but the blood of Jesus

The goat struggled as its trotters were being bound together but it did not bleat. It was hoisted on a pole and every now and then would make a valiant effort to topple its captors by twisting and lurching. I only worried that it would hurt itself with its unnecessary efforts, its fate was more or less sealed when it had fallen for the mountain flower bait that its shepherd had set out for it.

Exhausted and giddy with blood flowing to its head, the goat lay down serenely on the verdant grass. Its long neck was exposed, the jugular located, and swiftly severed, and the body relieved of blood. Then it was dead in the red grass.

We bound the hind legs to a tall tree so that its belly faced us. Beginning from the neck, we carefully separated skin and sinew, working carefully around the tendons and joints. Then removing the bladder and intestines, locating the gall bladder. We kept the heart, liver, kidneys and intestines (and also the brain and the blood).

It was cleaned for the roast. This thing once alive, whose existence has been a part of so many a sacred thing.


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