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http:// --> Ashland, Oregon HOME Valley & State Sports Nation & World Opinion/Editorial Classifieds Business Columnists Obituaries Weather Archive Hot Topics Forum Photo Gallery Past Readers Polls Revels Etcetera Backpage O-Zone Special Sections Real Estate Guide Menu Guide Shakespeare Subscribe Contact Us Rate Card Place an Ad Online Games Movie Preview October 9, 2006 The meat man Jennifer Margulis Archives Monday August 28th Monday September 11th Monday September 18th Monday September 25th Monday October 2nd Monday October 9th Monday October 16th By Jennifer Margulis Tidings Correspondent My 2-year-old and I ducked into a taxi. "We're going where they sell the grilled meat," I said. "Straight ahead." In Niamey, where we're living right now, you pay 200 CFA (that's about 40 cents) for each seat in a taxi, no matter how far you're going, and the taxi driver does everything he can to fill his car. There were three other men already seated. The one in the front said, "You like grilled meat?" "No," I said sucking air in through my teeth like West Africans do to show their disapproval. "I'm going to a friend's house that's next to it." "So it was just a way to explain where you're going?" "That's right," I said. Then added: "But I've eaten that grilled meat. It's good." The three men in the car laughed uproariously, slapping their thighs in delight. "Really?" they said. "But the chicken here," I added, "is another story. The chicken, like the people, are too skinny." The whole taxi burst into laughter again and all four men were still chuckling as we got out. I had eaten the meat at the grilled meat vendor at my friend Humaiya's house but not bought it myself. A few days later Etani and I went to buy some. We parked the car we were borrowing under a rather skinny-looking shade tree, and walked to the meat vendor. "Madame?" A teenage boy in short pants with holes in them grabbed my Tupperware container and hugged it to his chest, shouting to his friends in Hausa, Niamey's local language. His shirt was torn and his hands did not look clean but my container was stranded in his arms and I didn't want to be impolite and ask for it back. "Half a kilo," I ordered. Etani was fascinated. So close to the fire it looked like his shirt would get burned, a dark-skinned man stood on an elevated platform with a clever. He worked so fast you could barely see his hands move as he split the burning grilled meat into smaller pieces. Tam tam tam went his clever, as the meat gave way under it. Sweat poured down his face but he didn't stop to wipe it away. The thin fingers of his hands looked like they could withstand anything, and he never took his eyes away from his work. For most customers they wrapped the cut meat in the brown paper of recycled cement bags. The sun hot, I felt my impatience mounting. When the teenage boy coughed directly onto my container, I decided it was time to leave. How could meat grilled and handled in this manner, even if we had eaten before, possibly be hygienic? "Give me back my container," I said. "We're leaving." "No, no, Madame," the boy answered. "You coughed directly on it," I couldn't help saying to him. "I don't want my children to get sick." "Sorry, Madame, sorry," the boy said. "Are you sure you even work here?" At every intersection, at every business in Niamey there are always young boys milling around looking to earn a few pennies by carrying bags, shining shoes, or guarding parked cars. Maybe this boy, who had cozied up to my clean Tupperware, was one of them. "Yes, yes. It's coming Madame. He just had to weigh it." Tam, tam, tam, the meat man chopped my meat. He hacked hard into a big bone and the juice splattered right into my face and into Etani's, covering us with grilled sheep blood. It was too late to do anything but wipe my face and my son's and hand over my money to another teenager at the moneybox. I had already asked Humaiya the price was for a demi-kilo so I knew what change I should get but the other teenager pocketed my money without a word. "My change," I insisted. "He's a miscreant," the boy who coughed all over our food said. "Hey, you, give Madame her money, you thief!" I got my change. Etani smiled at them over my shoulder and shouted "Bonsoir!" As far as he was concerned, the outing had been a great success. Current Comments: If more people had blood squirted on their faces while their meat is being prepared, maybe there would be more vegetarians. Ron Elterman - Ashland OR - October 9th, 4:55 PM What an amazing picture you paint? Little Etani is getting quite the education. I look forward to your book about the experience, and to his book one day! michelle o'neil - Virginia - October 15th, 4:38 AM Leave a Comment: Advertisement: Advertisement: Paid Advertising Inkjet Printers Student Loans Water Filter Helzberg Diamonds Mortgage Calculator Security Systems Advertisement: Copyright © 2006 Ashland Daily Tidings and Ottaway Newspapers. All Rights Reserved.