As my time in Haiti drew to a close, I decided to buy a goat and prepare a special meal as a show of appreciation to the staff for all they had done for me. We bought the goat in advance to help trim the grass in our back yard. This goat was the topic of many a dinner time conversation over the next few weeks. What should we name him? Who knew how to make head soup? Could you eat blood pudding and still participate in communion?
The fateful day remains vivid in my memory. Our office assistant performed the dirty deed in his Sunday best dress pants and polished black shoes, while the goat, apparently quite willingly, quietly gave himself up for our gastronomical pleasure. It made me sick to watch. Actually, I soon discovered I really was sick. The next day I was sicker than a dog, and missed the whole party.
I heard the feast was enjoyed by more than 40 people. A few visitors conveniently stopped by, and we took the opportunity to invite an official from the embassy down the street we'd been wanting to get to know better. The party was a big hit. Too bad I missed it!
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