05/02/2024
2019, as a corps member, I worked at the veterinary services. Part of the requirements of veterinarians employed by the state was to carry out meat inspection in the abattoir.
This responsibility started from the orientation camp where we had to confirm cattle brought in were fit for consumption.
The experience of sl@ughtering animals was not foreign to me as my thesis had me collecting samples from the abattoir during my final year and my family had designated me the family butch€r since my second year in university. They said “it will help me do better at school”.
Well, I sl@ughtered, dressed and chopped up all the meat eaten in my house. For animals like cattle and goats reserved for festivities; I was in sole charge of supervising their processing.
My decades of experience around the food chain made me feel this level of sovereign apathy and indifference at the sl@ughter slab.
For weeks I soldiered on to the abattoir, watching as hundreds of cattle paid the ultimate price; giving their life as food for mankind while I dutifully played my role:
Palpating
Incising and
Judging.
One day tho, I watched this cattle struggle, she didn’t want to di£. This particular cow refused to be cast (lay down). Each time they got her down she was quick to get up and slip out of her binds.
She charged and tried her best to get away but the will and wrath of man was dominant and eventually she was a carcass.
Then, there I was a vulture; kn¡fe and hook in gloved hands, picking at her viscera- inspecting.
Only to discover, this cow was pregnant!
My knees buckled under me, I dropped my claws and my senses betrayed me.
I was Saul on the road to Damascus, there was a light and for the first time I smelled the thick cloud of blood: This place smelled like death and I wanted fresh air.
I saw the inhumane sl@ughter, the fear in the animals eyes and their desperate hopelessness as I stumbled out of the hall.
Their pain was real and my body quivered as I broke down into tears on a pavement outside.
I hated my job instantly.
I vented endlessly on my status and a doctor friend comforted me. He said it was a good thing, the grim reaper was yet to curb my conscience. He told me to give it time, continue showing up and soon I wouldn’t feel at all.
True to his words I haven’t felt that way since 2019 until today.
What happened?
This b¡tch was induced and I had scrubbed in for a spay (removal of uterus and ovaries) surgery.
While they were preparing the incision site, I saw huge blood vessels transversing the Linea Alba and I told the vet nurse: something didn’t feel right.
Mentally, I prepared for heavy bleeders (guessing she must be close to her heat period, tick fever or worse case a tumor) but what I wasn’t prepared for was to extract the reproductive tract and be greeted by her beaded uterus/uterine horn evidence of 10puppies already implanted.
“Tell the owners want to close her up, she’s pregnant” I instructed… In retrospect, I am sure I yelled.
Owner came in and said “she’s a stray and I’m trying to adopt her. I don’t think I can handle the puppies please continue with the surgery”
F🤬😖
Hot tears sprung up in my eyes as I raised and furrowed my brows and continued the procedure.
Not today!
Five years ago, I could go outside, sit, cry and vent.
Five years later the stakes are much higher. I couldn’t even afford to let my emotions make my hands shake.
I guess it’s not the grim reaper that steals your innocence- reality is one helluva r@pist!
