My Carnivorous Ways

( I wrote this piece on Friday, February 23, 2007 at the time when talk of Rift Valley Fever was rife)


The Rift valley Fever came, saw and conquered. Came because it threw every other ‘Carnivore’ like me into panic; saw because it took into its sight the wide populace in Kenya and nodded its head in satisfaction and conquered because the nation is dying.

I hate Rift Valley Fever. Let’s call it RVF because it’s a taboo topic.

The RVF instills in me ‘Feveriosis’. I develop goose bumps whenever I watch those helpless RVF victims. There’s the anomaly in the name. You see, this Rift Valley thing has not caught up with Rift Valley province per se yet it’s called Rift valley Fever. Rift Valley Fever my foot. It’s a bad omen. Why not Central Fever or Nairobi Fever or Eastern Fever? But that’s not the issue.

The issue is me. Yes, me. You see, RVF means everything you can think of. And it starts and ends with meat. Ok, let me confess: I love meat. It’s no secret in my village.Nothing gives me delight than in fixing my healthy set of jagged, serrated, crush-‘em-to-tiny-little-bits teeth on a roasted or fried meat. Like a dutiful lawnmower or hacksaw, my teeth determinedly munch anything fleshy to a fine, even paste and then my agile tongue rolls it into the cave of oblivion. Meat of any ‘creed’, whether red as crimson or white as Santa Claus’s beard, whether boiled or roasted, whether domestic or wild’s, enjoy protection against discrimination. You see, true to form and colour, my teeth enjoys unity in diversity. My two lower teeth were knocked off as I struggled with a stubborn, fleshy, cartilaginous piece of bony meat ( I don’t exaggerate). I had set my grip tight (you may say like a G-Clamp) on the bone and as I swung my jaw sideways in a noisy mouth wrestle, the offending bone let loose and left two gaping holes in their wake. I have hung those two teeth near the door to my house as some sort of a souvenir. Below them I have written: “The price to pay on chewing gone astray”.

I am worried of my canines. You see, through adaptation to the tricky process of stretching and cutting fleshy tendons, they have evolved into secateur-shaped prongs like those of an old warthog. I do not complain. It’s the price. I lost the use of my left molar four years ago due to my negligence: through wear and tear, they lost their hardness and started aching. I did the needful, in one of the meat eating sessions; I clamped it with a sharp bone and knocked it off. In its place is a hard gum that can go beyond its call of duty to squeeze succulence out of meat (such sacrifice!)

My love for meat didn’t start yesterday. It’s a solid reputation built on many years of trying and at times painful experiences of jaw-shattering duels. It’s a CV structured on the layout of carefully devised experience of carnivorous ways. I hold 23 titles of ‘Meat Jugular’ Tournaments that I have contested in. In one of the tournaments, before a packed hall of more than one thousand people, I licked clean a fleshy hind leg of a roasted pig in a record 10 minutes. The crowd gave me a standing ovation. The referee filed an appeal in the Meat Jugular Bout Complaints Tribunal claiming that I had rigged my way into the tournament. But it’s the price. I took the referee to my house and showed him the two teeth hanging near the door. He just stared at the teeth, shook his head and went to his knees. He knew I meant business, promptly apologized and cancelled the appeal. Let me confess that I had planned to risk one of my canines in order to fix it in his arm if he didn’t co-operate. But that’s water under the bridge. Now I have my certificate.
Unfortunately the damn RVF is about to bring an end to this. I suspect that this is part of an orchestrated, well-planned scheme by the vegetarians and my detractors. They want to bring me down by instilling fear in me of Rift Valley whatever. But I shall stand firm. Where were they when I lost my prized lower teeth in a lonely meat wrestle? Or when my canines took the form of a snake’s bare fangs? What about when I single-handedly knocked my own molar without the aid of a dentist,( professional or backstreet), and never used an anaesthiser? And do they realize such a great harm they might be doing to the economy of Kenya when they are joking with an international title?

It’s people like me who keep the economy of Kenya ticking. I keep butcheries in business; I provide a case study of the limits to which teeth can be pushed to (By the way it was one of the thesis topic of a dentist student in his PhD entitled Exploring New Dimensions: Relationship Between Teeth Agility and Food Types). Any way, meat and I shall together be one in this love-hate relationship—Rift Valley Fever (oops, RVF) or no RVF!

If you meet those vet meds tell them I said hello.